The Human Fiend
by prototype gear
Summary: In another time, Lilith Potter was adopted by Samuel Cain upon her transformation into a half-ghoul. This is not that the case with this interpretation. Clawing away for her life, Lilith attracts the attention of a great and powerful Darkness. One that was all too willing to...invest in her. The differences continue when it's not a Doctor that tries to help her but an investigator.
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is ladies and gents. The first chapter of this adopted story. As you could probably tell with the summary, this is going to be a very different tale from the blood hound. I do not like to use other people's ideas, not without reinventing them or changing them drastically in some fashion. In this case, this is the tale of the blood hound…except not.**

 **Lilith will not be a ghoul, but rather something else…something fiendish…**

 **There will be no Samuel Cain raising her, and dying for her. Oh, don't worry. That guys still exists in the world of this story. But due to separate paths, and different actions taken…well, he ain't gonna be raising our lovable little ball of violence and death. Rather, it will be someone else.**

 **In fact, most of this chapter is dedicated to him…or at least him and his associates. I felt that Samuel Cain did his job. He was the father figure that allowed Lilith to hang onto some semblance of her humanity, as well as giving her, her outlook on life and her morals. He did his job, teaching her how to love.**

 **But at the same time…I felt that his existence was a short one. I hope to do something differently with my take on the bloodhound. I want him to make an impact…but will he survive this story? Or will he go the way of Samuel Cain?**

 **Welcome, one and all, to the story of a girl. A girl with a human heart…wrapped in demon skin.**

* * *

 **A Human Heart…Wrapped in Demon skin.**

London, a famous place in the world. The capital of Great Britain, and a sprawling metropolis of steel and glass. Constantly evolving and changing as the times progress. But at its heart, London was an ancient city. Not in the sense that it was molding and falling apart, but in the sense that it is a city that has been around for a very, very, _very_ long time.

However, just because it is an old city, one that has withstood the test of time, and grown the better for it, does not mean that all is well in it. Like any leading capital of the world, or any place really, it was a center of business. A center of money. And where money is, lays the sin of greed.

And where sin is…monsters gather.

Not monsters of children's fairy tales. But monsters of men. Men who are monsters, beings that viciously prey on others. And like all monsters, they come out at night. Stalking the concrete streets of this global hub of commerce. Stealing and taking what is not theirs to take. Stealing things that can not be given back. Taking innocence and pouring blood onto the stone walkways that spread out from the metropolis.

Men, woman, and child alike are told to head the warnings of going out at night. But even then, there are those who would foolishly take their chances, and the chances of others, and step out into the darkness of the night. Heedless of the dangers that prowl the alleys. Ignorant of the backdoor deals that occur in the darkness of illicit dens. And deaf to their own instincts screaming at them to run away from that which would bring them to the embrace of mother Nyx.

Vernon Dursley was one such man. A shrewd businessman, and a belligerent bargainer. A man with an encyclopedic knowledge of all things drill related. With an ambitious streak a mile wide, and a ruthless style of business, he had stubbornly climbed the corporate ladder of his workplace. Maliciously shoving all resistance out of the way in his bid to do his job. Even against the better part of his judgement. As long as there is a profit to be made, he would ruthlessly pursue it.

However, while he was an amazing businessman, he was also a foolish man. A very, very foolish man. With a paranormal fear of all things unnatural. Of all things that could not be explained by the perceivable laws of the known world. He feared that which could not be understood, that which was never meant to be understood.

He feared all things eldritch. All things that man was not supposed to mess with, nor come in contact with. He snorted at the very mention of magic, but he feared the comings of life other than human. He was a man that feared the unknown with a fanatical devotion. He dedicated his life to control, to being in control of those around him, and the world around him.

It was what drove him so, to be so ruthless in the world of trade, exchange, and commerce. He had to be in control, to dictate the flow of things. If not, then how could he know what was to come? If he could achieve control of his workplace it would give him the power to influence the world, just that tiny bit…

But alas, it was not meant to be. He lay with his head poking out of his own car. The windshield cracked and broken. His wife's neck bent at an unnatural angle, and their child hanging from his own car seat on the ceiling of the vehicle. Blood dripping from his mouth due to the ruptures inside his body, caused by pure blunt force trauma.

The wrecked car, for that was what it is, was flipped onto its roof. The wreck of five different cars, with the drivers dead in two more of them, and two more needing serious medical care, was a sight caused by pure coincidence.

It was in the middle of the night. A combination of drowsiness, sleep deprivation, and stress was the cause of the incident. And not all of the blame could be lauded onto one person. One was a drunk driver, and another was a man that was high of his rocker. And another was an elderly man suffering from alzeihmers; he believed that he was simply driving his daughter to school.

In the end, all it took was for one driver to slip up and crash into another. Oddly enough, it was the only one that did not have a somewhat decent reason to not be attentive while driving. Texting while driving is quite a well known danger. Doubly so if the act is done during a rain storm. The finishing touch to this picture was the trail of blood being washed away by the rain. Cleansing the asphalt of any, and all evidence of the six year old child slowly crawling away from a broken mirror.

Blood oozed out of various places on this child. But most notably was the stomach area, where shards of glass slowly grinded against the concrete of the alleyway. The child could not move its legs, trauma to the spine prevented it from being so. The child had nothing unusual to differentiate it from the crowd, nothing but its bright green eyes. Its black hair was wet and stuck together, a byproduct of the rain.

Slowly, the child crawled along the floor of the alleyway, desperately searching for anything or anyone to help it. However…desperation only attracts vultures. And in this case, if the child knew what was to come, it would probably have opted to die slowly.

Desperate, trembling hands, pale and clammy, slowly reached out and grabbed a hold of a black leather shoe. This shoe belonged to a man with very, very handsome features. Some would say even angelic, for he was a man that had a face with a beauty that had no rival. This man was dressed in a business suit, necktie and everything. He even had a suitcase in hand.

However, if one was to simply squint their eyes, they would have noticed that not a drop of rain would fall onto the earth around him. As if it recoiled in his presence, and dared not land on him. But why would the rain do such a thing? Why would it not land on this handsome, beautiful man? Why indeed…

"Curious…how very curious." Spoke the man. His voice musical and lovely. As if just with his voice alone was inviting any, and all to hear him. To listen, to believe him. To hear his voice was like being compelled to believe him, even if the recipient hearing the voice knew that the speaker was only whispering lies and promises of power.

However, he only received whimpers of pain from the dying and paralyzed child. The man did not even seem bothered that the child was slowly dragging itself toward him, using his leg as a support. He did not even seem to care about the blood that was being bled onto his black dress pants.

"You should have died in that wreck child. You should not have survived being thrown through a window, nor should you have survived a half mile journey on the ground you have dragged yourself along. Tell me child, what is it that makes you so different from everybody else?" he asked. Not once moving a single muscle.

However, his eyes trailed down and gazed into the desperately pleading ones of the crying child. Mismatched red and blue met bright green for but a second, and then the man understood. A smile then graced the mans lips. And like that, the mans eyes turned malicious.

Gone was the face of an angel, gone was the beautiful man. And in its place was a great darkness. A darkness so veiled and black that it was likened to a void. A place that none could return from without being changed in some form. In the mans place was a monster like no other. A monster that had found just what it was looking for.

Entertainment.

"So you are one of those foolish humans…the stagnant ones. Never changing, never evolving. Drunk on their own power. The sons and daughters of gluttony and sloth." He whispered into the air. The child heard it, but it did not care. All that it did was continue to whimper as pain and agony racked its body. The coldness of the rain seeping into it, slowly bleeding the heat of life out of it.

Casting another glance at the child's eyes the man smiled a horrible smile. One that promised emptiness and misery to all who received it. The death of kinds had followed that smile, just as so many other horrible tragedies had. And like that the man kneeled down, and opened his briefcase.

"Normally I would have offered my regular deal. I get what I want in return for an act of sin. But…I'm feeling generous today. I see potential in you child…potential I seek to invest in."

By now, the child had fallen off of the man's leg. The cold and numbness had overtaken the child's senses. Its eyes desperately went towards the man. Begging, pleading for him to save her.

And then the man pulled something from his briefcase. In shape it was like some kind of parasite. Twitching and shaking in his grasp. The man then turned towards the crying child, paralyzed and lying face down in a pool of its own blood. The man dangled the parasite in front of the child's face that had turned to face him.

"Whether you want it or not you will return to the society that threw you out. It does not matter what your wishes are, for they hold old blood as something precious. They believe that power lie in that which is ancient. It is this belief that has made them grow stagnant, made them grow weak."

And then the man dropped the parasite from his grasp. It fell to the ground…and slowly began to creep towards the dying child.

"Whether or not it is your intent you will change them. Maybe you shall make them into a force for the betterment of humanity…and on the flipside you might just be the cause for their untimely demise. There will be a multitude of paths that you will have the choice to walk."

The parasite had now climbed onto the child's face. Its body was erect and standing upright. The child's eyes were staring into it…as the head of the parasite slowly opened to reveal a circular mouth, full of sharp teeth and hissing faces. The child, barely alive at this point, could barely make out the shape in front of it. It was all but a blur to it.

"I will be watching you Lilith Potter. I believe you will be a very interesting investment to me. However…you will face many people vying for your loyalty. I wonder who you will chose in the end…will it be the family that abandoned you? Or will you chose me? I look forward to how your choices effect the world…"

And like that, the man turned around. And with his back to a child screaming in pain as a parasite burrowed itself though its eyes, the man departed into the shadows of the alleyway.

"Just remember… _ **I am always watching**_ …

* * *

"Jesus Christ on a unicycle…how the hell did this happen? And in the middle of the night no less…" spoke the gruff voice of the investigation officer on the scene. The man was in uniform, dark blue suit and necktie, surveying the wreck that had happened in the middle of the night during a rainstorm.

Seven dead and four more injured. A family of three, a drunk couple, a senile old man, and a random pedestrian on the dead end. And on the injured scene was a drunk truck driver, and a couple of illegal animal smugglers trying to bring in…platypuses.

It was rather awkward when he opened the back end of the truck only to see a bunch of animals giving him a thousand yard stare.

…moving on, the officer was currently trying to make heads or tails of whether or not the entire thing was coincidence or set up. There were a few signs of it being done purposefully. Such as the slashed tires of the truck driver's truck, certain parts of the smugglers truck being removed. The smugglers truck could be chalked up to them being really shitty at car maintenance.

But the slashed tires? Obvious foul play right there. The only problem with that was that he had no leads or anything pointing to any kind of suspect. So for the time being he had to wait for the identities of the dead to come in before he could really do anything…

Or he could just look through the wallet of the fat bastard that had gotten shoved through his own window. Poor fellow had multiple lacerations all over his face, with bits and pieces of glass sticking out of his limp body.

Looks like the guy had his face dragged along the concrete if the mangled skin was anything to go by. The female occupant of the car was slammed against the roof of the car by her neck. Ouch, that had to hurt. Well she's dead now so it didn't matter much. The kid in the back though? He was shoved around so much his organs and bones broke and snapped. He ended up bleeding internally.

Damn, if there was one thing the investigator hated to see it was a dead kid on any scene. Whether it be crime or accident. He had already looked at the old man. Death by heart attack, too much action he supposed? Old man was supposed to be on life support at the hospice care from what he was told by his partner.

The drunk couple that died? Death by alcohol. They were apparently drinking while driving, even though they were already drunk. Coupled with suddenly being jerked around by a car wreck, is it really any wonder that they died? Well, he would let the autopsy tell him the specifics.

Then again he might not. Seeing his colleague talk to dead bodies and make jokes about them was pretty creepy. Then again he had nothing on his doctor…

Seriously, doctors have probably the blackest sense of humor. Zorro-bellies, crispy-critters, GOMERs, frequent fliers...medical slang is downright grim dark as fuck.

The terms mean, respectively, a patient whose abdomen is covered in surgical scars, a horribly burned patient, "Get Out of My ER" for a bothersome patient who wants attention, and a patient who is in and out of the ED all the time.

He was cut off from his musings when he fished out the I.D of the man with his head stuck outside his own car window. "Vernon Dursley…the drill guy that Mary was complaining about? Well, there's a place to start…"

He could already sense that this case was going to be annoying. An old man that was driving when he wasn't supposed to be, animal smugglers, drunk drivers, a dead family, and a business man known in circles for being obstinate and stubborn.

"First let's check in with whatever we got on these people, then weed out the suspects if there are any…"

"Hey Phelps!" called a voice from behind. The man now identified as Phelps turned around and saw his partner walking up, after having dodged around a police officer that was trying to drive away a stubborn reporter.

"Found anything interesting?" the man in the black suite asked. His eyes shifting over to the corpse of Vernon Dursley. "Christ on a bike…" the man muttered. Earning a chuckle from Phelps as the man handed his partner the dead man's I.D.

Running his gaze over the Identity card, the man raised an eyebrow. "Vernon Dursley? Isn't that the guy that my sister was complaining about at dinner yesterday? Something about breaking off a deal to make a better one with a different company or something like that? Kinda weird that he winds up dead the next day dontch'a think?"

"Was thinking something along those lines. Call up the boys back at the station and see where this man lives. Might be able to find something at his house."

"Gotch'a…oh, and Phelps?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm driving this time. Did you even pass driving school? How the hell did you even get a license?"

At that, the Investigator named Phelps smiled. "I left him speechless with how good I was."

The man's partner glowered at that. "Or maybe he was just scared of how terrible you were."

"Nah, I don't think so Connors. If he had a problem with my driving I'm pretty sure he would have said something."

At that Connors only sent a deadpan stare towards his partner. "I call bullshit on that."

At that, Phelps only shrugged. "Whatever you say."

And like that, the two of them made their way back towards their car. They had an investigation to do.

* * *

Coming up to Number four private drive in Surrey, one of the counties of London, Phelps could immediately tell that there was something off about the place. For one, all the houses were the same. No style, no individuality. It was almost scary just how…organized each house was.

That same irritating brown-peach color, white picket fence, and perfectly organized lawns. It was rather eerie to the detective. And his partner had no qualms with voicing his thoughts.

"What is it? Bland Tuesday? Seriously Phelps, this neighborhood is…there's just something _wrong_ about it. Like the people here have an obsession with being normal or something. It's like the people here are stuck in the 50's."

Getting out of the car, Phelps squinted around at the neighborhood. Spotting an old lady staring at him from behind a window, he waved towards her. And in response he received a shutting of the blinds.

Connors came out of the car and followed Phelps gaze. A silent nod from the man's partner told Phelps all he needed to know. With that, he took off and began to walk toward the house while his partner went and began to ask around the neighborhood.

Walking up the stone steps Phelps began to note certain things. Like of how well cared for the flowers were. The soil was a nice dark color, water from the rain soaking in. the bushes were trimmed and neat, much more so than the rest of the neighborhood. In fact, it looked like the lawn was mowed just yesterday.

Despite the eeriness of the situation, Phelps couldn't help but applaud whoever had worked on the lawn. And then he immediately filed that fact away as something to be noted.

Coming up to the door, Phelps's eyes were immediately drawn to the doormat in front of him. Intuition kicked in, and he pulled the mat up. Revealing the spare key. Taking the key, he unlocked the door, and walked inside.

His first observation was that the house smelled like perfection. As in someone went to town with an air refreshener. It smelled like someone was absolutely obsessed with having a nice house, even when there was no one in it.

He suspected the wife. No way in hell was Vernon responsible for carrying after the house. He had seen his corpse. And the man qualified as a beached whale.

The first thing he did was begin to walk down the hallway, observing all of the pictures of the Dursley family. Throughout it all, Phelps noted that being fat seemed to run in the family. If the Husband, child, and family relative that seemed to pop up in a picture now and then (she was a really fat lady) was any indication.

Being fat used to mean that one had a lot of wealth once upon a time. Nowadays it's different. But if there was one thing Phelps noted was that the family seemed very _well_ off. Almost to the point of suspicion…scratch that. One man providing for his family and they're _this well off?_ Something's up with that, and if Phelps was anything now, it was interested.

His small tour through the life and times of the Dursley family over, Phelps took a walk through the kitchen. Completely spotless, even the tile floor. As if was mopped yesterday. And all of the silverware was nice and shiny, even the plates were spotless!

Honestly it was beginning to scare the detective with how…orderly and clean everything so far was. Shaking off a chill that ran up his spine, the disturbed detective journeyed up the stairs. Noting that, once again, something was spotless and clean. Specifically, the rail guard. The one at his house was covered in dust, probably because he never really used the second floor of his house. So this minor detail really began to prick at him for a moment.

Shaking his unease off, the man continued up the stairs, and stepped foot on the second floor of the house. There were more pictures on the all; these ones were more in the past however. The pictures were older, more tattered. And there was less color. Most of them were of a couple, the recently deceased Mr. and Mrs. Dursley it would seem.

Taking a left, Phelps came to the first room that he was going to open in the house. And the moment it swung open the detective breathed a sigh of relief. Relief that there was at least one room in the entire house that wasn't clean.

He was beginning to feel a bit self conscious there for a moment.

It was obviously the child of the family's room. It was an _absolute pigsty_. Toys everywhere! Out of baskets, all over the carpet, on top of the…bed? Why wasn't there a bed in this room?

Shaking his head, Phelps realized that this wasn't the kids' room. Well, not his **bed** room. Rather, it would seem that the Dursley's were well off enough to have their kid get his very own **play** room. Something that really made the metaphorical detective itch get really…itchy for lack of a better word.

Closing the door, the detective moved down the hallway. There was nothing else on the left side of the hallway besides the bathroom. Taking a quick glance around, and noting that once again, the hallway was perfectly clean. Really clean…like the rest of the house so far…besides the play room.

The first room at the end of the hallway on the right side did in fact turn out to be the kid's bedroom. And it would seem that the cleanliness of the house could only be erased by the dead kid, because his room was nothing short of a mess.

Seriously, who leaved their own clothes all over the room? Clean clothes at that. Those ones had very little wrinkles. And there were broken toys everywhere! There was one there, and there, and…is that a broken TV? What the hell? Vernon made enough money to get his own kid a TV? A TV that the kid was willing to brake.

With all that he had seen so far, the detective came to the conclusion that the Dursleys were _really_ bad parents. And that they probably spoiled the kid.

Shaking his head, the man left the room, and entered the one directly opposite of it across the hallway. The master bedroom of the entire house was nothing to write home about. The only thing of note was the book on the nightstand by the bed.

Walking over to it, the detective flipped through it. Reading through the entries of the book. It only took one glance to realize that the book was a diary belonging to the wife of Vernon Dursley.

However, as the detective read through the various entries, his eyes began to narrow. His lips pursed themselves, and a curious glint entered his eyes. He then put the dairy into his coat pocket. What with it being about 40 degrees outside, it was perfectly normal. With purpose in mind, the man began to walk back into the hallway, looking towards the ceiling.

Finding what he was looking for, the man pulled down the fold up staircase to the attic, and climbed up into it. Pulling out his flashlight, the detective pointed this way and that, searching for one specific box. Eventually he found it, buried beneath a few other boxes that were surprisingly light.

Opening it up, he began to pick through it. Eventually, he found it. A smaller box wrapped up in a casing, as he moved it the inside rattled. Opening the box up, he pulled out a deck of cards.

Slowly, and carefully, he took two cards from the deck. He then set one card on the ground, while carefully holding another. He used his other hand to shine his flashlight down on the black ace of clubs card.

And then with, taking a deep breath, the detective slammed the card in his hand down onto the other card. The moment the impact happened, a large * **Bang** * resounded throughout the entire attic. The man was visibly startled; as if he was trying to wrap his head around how simply slamming two cards together could create a noise not so dissimilar to a cannonball firing.

A grimace made its way onto the detective's face. "…Well crap. I never wanted to deal with shit like this again…" the man muttered under his breath.

Acting fast, the man put the cards back into the deck, which he put back into its box, and then put that box into a larger box, and the climbed back down the stairs with said box. The man then grabbed the box, having to wrap his hands around the bottom because it was falling apart, and walked down the stairs.

The good detective then sat the box down by the door, and whipped out his flashlight. Slowly, he began to walk towards the cupboard in the first hallway he walked down. How he missed it he didn't know. In hindsight, he probably should have been paying better attention to his surroundings, but if he didn't, he probably wouldn't have found the diary upstairs.

Slowly, he reached towards the door of the cupboard. His eyes roaming over the various locks and chains on top of the cupboard door. As if the family was trying to keep something…something they were afraid of.

He then opened the door…and had his worst fears confirmed by the blood covered blankets and walls. There were obvious scratch marks all over the cramped walls of the cupboard, as if whatever was locked inside had tried to claw its way out.

The next thing to happen would be that the detective ran out of the house like a bat out of hell, gunning towards his car. He passed by Connor in the process as he reached inside of the vehicle and grabbed the Com.

"Whoa! What's going on? Did you find something?" the man asked as he saddled up right next to his partner. Said partner only pointed towards the open door of the Dursley residence. "Look inside the open cupboard if you want to have an idea! And grab the box while you're at it!" the man yelled as his partner ran towards the house to see what was all the hubbub.

About twenty seconds later, that same man would be seen running out of the house, a scowl and angry snarl on his face, carrying a box of knickknacks that had been collected over the years. The box was loaded up into the back of the police car. Said car would then take off like lightning towards the scene of the wreck.

Ten minutes later, an entire team of investigators would show up at the Dursley residence. Tape making a parameter around the place, and limiting access to the household save for people with actual business going on there.

* * *

The detective duo made their way back towards the site of the crash, which had been cleaned up by now, in the hopes of finding something to lead them towards the missing child that had been…living with the Dursleys.

They did find something. Claw marks, and drag tracks. Like someone had been pulling themselves through the much, trying to get to shelter or something. Mixed into the mud and grass they found droplets of dried blood.

It was all the proof that Phelps needed to know that there might be a chance that the girl was still alive. Improbable as it was.

The only thing that was unexpected? Following the trail towards an alleyway completely swamped by police cars. That and…

"Is that the boss lady? What the hell is she doing out here?" gawked at the scene as they pulled up right next to another police car, sirens silent, and lights blaring and shining.

Unbuckling his seat belt, Phelps narrowed his eyes. "I think the better question is, what's so bad that she had to personally come out here and see it herself?"

"Hell if I know…heads up, we got company." The detective replied. An officer was approaching the duo, his face was oddly grim, and slightly pale. Whatever it was that he saw in the alleyway, it wasn't pretty.

The two investigators raised their hands in greeting, something the officer responded with by nodding to the pair. "Boss was about to call you out here. She wants to see you." He said with all the serious possible by an officer of the law.

"She wants to see us? Two regular average Joe detectives?" Phelps asked with a raised eyebrow. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw about four officers setting up a yellow tape line to keep people out.

There was an unusual seriousness in the air, as if some kind of tragedy had happened. What happened, the duo had no clue. But they would soon enough.

The officer in front of the duo just shrugged. "Don't know. All that she said was that Phelps would be the only one who could make heads or tails of what happened." He then gave a pointed look towards the investigator in question with a doubting stare. "Not that I have anything against you, but I don't see what makes you a better option. You're involved in auto, not what this is."

"And this is…?" asked Connors with a pointed look.

"Homicide." Replied the officer.

There was a silence. An eerie one that went uninterrupted. But eventually, the ice was broken. "I'm sorry…but what? I don't have the qualifications to even touch a homicide case, much less actually take part in one!"

"No offense, but are you sure the boss lady is in the write head at the moment?" asked Connors with a frown. He too was just as confused as his partner. The Boss Lady _never_ assigned anyone to a case they didn't have the qualifications or experience with. Bringing in someone whose specialty is dealing with auto related incidents, and ragging them onto what might be a homicide was not something that she would do.

And yet, according to this officer she had asked for Phelps, the new guy on the force, to jump onto the bandwagon.

A partnership of two months, and the two were already a decent seam, and friends as well. It helped that Phelps was nice to his partner's sister. Damn, that man get overprotective of her.

The officer scowled and pointed his thumb towards the alleyway. "Look, I'm just the messenger. Don't know why the chief wants you in on this, but she's got to have a reason. She always does. Take it up with her if you have a problem with it."

And then the officer left. His target an annoying reporter that was trying to sneak around the yellow tape.

Well partner…let's go see just what the boss lady wants." He said while beginning to step forward towards the alleyway, the man's fellow investigator following his lead.

After squirming around a few officers, they were greeted by the sight of the police chief standing with her back towards them. A white fur coat around her, it was her trademark clothing of choice. She was never seen without it.

Her red hair, more of a dark red color than light red, flowed down her shoulders and stopped at her back. She then turned to face them, showing one visible blue eye, the other covered by her dark red hair. Her face was set into a grim frown. She was obviously not pleased with the situation.

While Connors eyes drifted up and down his boss's rather nice figure (especially the legs, thank you skirts!) Phelps was staring at her, obviously not sure what to do.

"Detective Phelps? I believe you may be able to shed a little light on this situation." She spoke, her voice even and stern. This was a woman that did not care for dilly-dallying. She wanted answers, results, and resolutions, and she wanted them fast.

"Ma'am…I hardly believe I'm qualified to deal with this kind of work…" he muttered, his eyes going anywhere but his boss's.

Sad women raised a simple eyebrow. "Funny. You're transfer papers said otherwise. It said you have experience with…unconventional cases." She said, her lips betraying a small smirk. The man stiffened at the admittance, and then narrowed his eyes.

"Is this one of… _those_ …kinds of…murders?" he asked, his voice fumbling the question. His partner turned to him to give him a 'really?' look. Phelps replied with a 'what can you do?' shift in body language, raised arms and awkward smile and all.

The police chief only pointed her thumb towards the rest of the alleyway behind her. "Go on and look and tell me what you think. Just a warning, it ain't pretty. In fact…why doesn't dipstick here stay back while you go and look at the victim?"

Connors only frowned and kicked the asphalt beneath him. Muttering things like "It was only one time…" and "I knew that name was going to stick…"

Phelps however, only nodded his head and walked past the police chief. Said police chief stayed back and looked pointedly at Connors, who was looking left and right, obviously not comfortable with the awkward tension in the air.

"So…" the detective began, trying to at least fish for something to know what was going on. "What's makes Phelps more qualified to do this kind of stuff than someone like Steven? Isn't that the guy the up and coming star of the Homicide division?"

The police chief only looked pointedly at the man. "Takami Phelps has had previous experience with multiple cases like this one. In fact, he was the one who tracked down a killer that used the method this murderer used before his transfer to England. I just simply felt that a case, according to the files I got from Tokyo, that is very similar to the ones he dealt with before would probably be better suited to having him around on."

Connors blinked at that. And then began to scratch his head. "What a minute…he's used to doing homicide, yet he jumped down to auto? Why would he do that? I mean, I knew the guy was from Japan, but I didn't know he dealt with murderers before."

The police chief only shook her head. "Dealing with homicide…not everyone can do it. Dealing with dead bodies, and those that commit murder? It can change a person. I think Phelps just wanted to get away from it all before he became a different person. It's largely the reason why I've steered you two away from murder cases."

A wistful sight escaped the woman's lips. It stayed that way before she reached into her coat and pulled a cigarette. Connors, seeing this, groaned. "Really boss lady? Really? You know how bad those can be…" he chastised. He resisted the urge to slap his face, and succeeded.

The police chief only rolled her eyes. Yes, true, they were bad for her health. But she could quit anytime she wanted. She had done it before…and only returned to using them after she had gotten her job as police chief.

It would be five minute later, that a tired and scowling Phelps would walk out of the alleyway. Connors, seeing his partner, brightened up a bit. "And the verdict is…?" he asked, his arms folded as he leaned up against the wall of the alleyway.

Phelps only looked more agitated at the question. "Complete and utter amateur work. They didn't know what they were doing and paid the price. We got a trail." He said with a tired air about him, as if he had relived something he didn't want to see very again.

The police chief raised her eyebrows at that. "Oh? And where would it lead?" she asked. Curious as to just where the case was going.

"Nyx's bar. Gotta be there at night to enter." He said with a tired sigh. Connors, seeing this walked over and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, you okay mate? Do we need to stop somewhere or something? Maybe an ibuprofen or something?"

Phelps however, brushed the hand off. "It's fine, just having some rather bad flashbacks."

Connors seemed to accept that. However, he did turn around and stare at the back of the alleyway, which was now being blocked by the police chief. "Damn…" he muttered. "Now I'm really curious."

"Don't. It's pretty damn gruesome." The man warned.

"Curious…I've never heard of Nyx's bar. And why can you only go into it at night?" asked the police chief with narrowed eyes. Connors gave his partner a questioning look as well, having never heard of any bar by that name either.

"Special place, members only. Really hush hush, can't find it unless shown." The man explained while folding his arms.

"Is it just really well hidden, or is it some kind of underground kind of thing?" asked the man's curious partner. Eyebrows raised and a perused lips pointed towards Phelps.

"Nah, just really tight security. They don't like it when someone blabs about the location. That, and it changes every now and then."

That caught the police chief's attention. "A mobile bar that only has a select few patrons? Sounds rather odd doesn't it?" she interjected. A calculating look on her face. Phelps saw the look she was shooting him and put his hands in his pocket.

"Same thing I said when I first heard about it. But hey, it's not so bad once you get used to going there. It's just that the owner is filthy stinking rich. That and unusually helpful to her patrons."

At that, the other two nodded. And then the police chief fixed her gaze at Phelps's eyes and held it. "You know what you need to do. Find out who did this. I don't care how, just do it. If you can find out what caused this I might end up pushing some more…strange cases like this one your way."

And with that said, she turned around and left the alleyway. As the woman walked away, Connors kept his eyes trained on her. It was when she left that Connors turned to face his partner with a grin. "Mate, I hate to see her go. But I love to watch her walk away."

Phelps snorted at his partner, but didn't say anything that disagreed with his partners statement. He too kept his eyes on the woman's behind as she left. The man was then brought out of his funk when Connors put an arm around his shoulder.

"So…where to first? Because I have honestly no idea what to do next."

At that, Phelps only slid his partners arm off of his shoulder and began to walk towards their car. "First, we need to stop by my house."

"What? Forget something?"

Phelps shook his head. "Nah, just need to grab my gun…and some special ammo."

Connors sent Phelps a queer look. "…Are we hunting someone down or killing them?"

Phelps only shook his head as the duo began to approach their car. "…We just might need some form of weaponry when we visit the bar for information. It's not the nicest of places."

"You didn't answer the question Phelps." Connors pointed out as he dropped the cigarette out of his mouth and littered.

Phelps opened the car door and looked at his partner. "…We're not hunting anyone. We're hunting a monster."

Connors looked bewildered for a moment. Then composed himself. "A human monster then…huh. I thought it was going to be a wild beast or something like that…"

A couple of seconds later, and a police car left the scene. Leaving behind a crime scene to be picked up by the rest of the force…and an onlooker sitting on the roof.

* * *

"See? All you had to do was slaughter them and devour the raw emotion that came from their fear. It's places like gambling dens and brothels where we can get the most Magatsuhi. Places ripe with **sin**." Spoke a giggling voice that was feminine in origin.

The being the voice emanated from was not a creature many would be intimidated by. It had a small body, red hair, and was wearing a blue leotard and boots. Fairy wings sprouted from its back as it sat on the shoulders of a strange looking child.

The child in question was shirtless, and female. Black tribal marks littered her body and trailed down her arms and legs, ending at the ends of her toes and fingers respectively. They even covered her face to a degree. Most notable of the strange child however, were three different physical characteristics of her.

The black horn sprouting from the back of her neck was one. The second most notable, and the thing that would draw the most stares, would be the green glow that went alongside the black tribal markings. However, the glow wasn't purely green. It was more of a blue-green color. And finally, the 3rd otherworldly characteristic of the child was its glowing amber colored eyes.

The child sat at the top of a building near an alleyway that a man in a suit had just walked out of, her legs dangling over the edge of the building. A small crease found its way onto the strange child's face as she turned to face the fairy sitting on her shoulder.

"Did I really do all that? Kill those people I mean…I…I think I should feel something for them…but I don't." the child admitted with a frown. As the child was twiddling her thumbs in contemplation, the fairy only looked bemused by her current companion.

"It's probably because you were still adjusting to being a half demon or something. But I still don't get why you would feel bad about killing them. Humans die all the time, and it's not like they didn't deserve it. I mean, just take a look at all the Magatsuhi you got from them! All of it was the flavor of greed and lust. They probably deserved it in the end." The fairy said while standing on the half-demon's shoulder and poking its nose.

"You have a point there…even if I can barely understand what's going on at the moment. Do you know where I can sleep? I don't want to go back to Mr. Cupboard or sleep in an alley again…" asked the child with what seemed to be the eyes of a waif. Woe betide anyone able to deny that gaze.

The fairy looked amused at the strange child before standing up on her shoulder. the fairy snapped its fingers a few times and clicked it's stiletto boot against the Childs shoulder, making a clapping sound. Oddly enough, the child seemed just fine and didn't look any bit perturbed by the incredibly sharp stiletto boots point tapping against her skin.

The fairy's eyes brightened up after it snapped one more time. "There!" it said, turning around to point at another direction off in the distance towards a cathedral building. "I can sense a lot of anguish and lust in that direction!" the fairy exclaimed.

The child only tilted its head slightly, its face marred by confusion. "A church? Why would people be sad there? I thought it was a place to worship god or something?"

The fairy snickered at that admission. "Ah. So naive. Well…if do you want me to explain it in the short version, or the long version?"

The child looked at the fairy oddly for a second before answering. "The short version. I'm getting sleepy."

"Welp, let's put it this way. The altar boys are really going to need counseling after tonight."

"…I don't get it." she replied, her voice incredibly cute and innocent for someone who had just bathed in the blood of humans.

"Oh you are just so precious! I'm going to enjoy corrupting you!" the fairy snickered.

And like that, the duo set off for church…

And by the time the Sunday morning came around three priests and six children were found eviscerated and ripped to pieces in the underground storage room.

* * *

Lilith **didn't really get much screen time did she? But hey, She's going to get more next time.**

 **As everyone can see, we have the SMT verse and the Potterverse in the same plain of existence. But don't worry, most of the SMT stuff happen in Japan…things like the Persona games, Catherine, the war for the throne of bel, all of those are going to take place in japan. Stevens around…somewhere. And the conception has already happened. I'm going with my copy of Nocturne, which means Dante helped Naoki kick Kagusutchi's ass.**

 **Which also means the Devil May Cry universe exists in this story as well. Just for shits and giggles I'm going to say that Raidou was there as well. As well as the Super Pixie (you don't need to go full demon ending to get her). So the party that fought Kagutsuchi was (in my headcannon) Dante, Raidou, Naoki, and the Super Fairy.**

 **Shiva? Belzeebub? Metatron? Get the fuck outa here!**

 **I'm going to try and stick to English myths and legends in terms of demons that Lilith is going to use. As well as European folktales and Norse legends as well. If anyone knows any other myths and legends besides the general Arthurian legend, and Shakespeare in general, it would be much appreciated. If you want to give me ideas about what demons to give her then tell me the legend or folktale behind said demon. That is if you want to, I don't like demanding people do things for me for no reason.**

 **Just don't ask for mara. Just…don't…**

 **And thus…part one of the prologue is complete. This prologue, the basic set up before we get to pre-Hogwarts, is going to be two to three parts.**

 **Like it? Hate it? Tell me what you think.**

 **AND THAT'S ALL SHE WROTE!**

 **CUE THE AIRHORNS!**

 **BABABABWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!**


	2. Night, Day, and the next day

**Welcome, one and all to the next installment of The Human Fiend. Took a little while, but I did it. Summer college is now over…and regular college is about to start up pretty soon. Well, not for a while at least. But for now, it's break time! So just sit back, relax, and enjoy the show.**

 **Just a warning to all people that came here from the bloodhound (which is most of you). When I made the proposal to adopt the bloodhound, this was the idea I pitched. Of replacing Ghoul/wraith!Lilith with Demi-Fiend!Lilith. Things are going to be different. And yet, things will stay the same as well. Doctor Cain is still around, and will probably get a mention or cameo at one point. The situation with the potters are still the same.**

 **However, As a half-demon, Lilith's character development will take a different turn. A different turn from ghoul!Lilith, but at the same time it will be a similar theme. Yes, things will be different. That said, there will eventually be a crossover with this and a couple of other things. Considering this is using elements from SMT Nocturne, expect maybe a Devil May Cry element to appear or something. Still debating of I should even involve other anime's that involve demons and such. And to that one person that PM'd me about Highschool DxD, NO I WILL NOT INVOLVE THIS WITH THAT! The only way I would involve it would be to incorporate some elements of the DxD verse, like the sacred gears.**

 **On with the Show!**

* * *

 **Nyx's bar and lounge: Make a deal and get out.**

 _She was in the rafters, the beams and pillars above. Ropes and blocks of wood everywhere as she jumped from one spot to another._

 _Inhaling the air, she let out a sigh of contention as she absorbed the fear in the air. It was a dry taste on her tongue, with a slightly sweet aftertaste. It was nice, it tasted good to her. But she preferred the taste of lust and wrath. Lust was a sweet and sour kind of flavor that was just the right blend, while anger was a spicy sour flavor. With but a tinge of dryness added in._

 _Hopping about in the rafters, she made sure that they could all hear the thumps and stomps she made. It only increased their fear, and in turn, the flavor she was feeling on her tongue, and on her skin. She loved it. She well and truly did._

 _Before she would cower in fear, fear from her uncle. She would always run away when he got that scary red glow in his eyes. At that point she would see lines pulsate on him. It truly put the fear of god into her. But now…now she was putting fear into people._

 _And she loved it. It was_ _ **so much fun**_ _._

 _Seeing these…humans…cry, shout, and whimper when she made the simplest of noises was just so fun! Especially when they started to beg after she ripped one of their heads off…it made this weird red liquid stuff pour out of him when she did that. It kind of reminded her of the red color that would come out of her skin when she got hurt by something sharp…_

 _Speaking of…_

… _ah, they screamed when she threw the head down there. Although, now that they did that she was beginning to smell something really weird. Why was one of those four preachers plus a nun on his knees saying to forgive what he did?_

 _And on that note, what does 'disemboweling a hooker' mean?_

 _Ah great…the rest have started to follow suit. Why are they all on their knees?_

" _Oh dear, it would seem that these righteous holy men, plus a woman, aren't as pure as they would like the people to believe. 'All for the generous donations!' me thinks." Spoke up the Fairy on her shoulder._

 _The child simply tilted its head to the side. Confusion marrying its tattoo marked face. The Fairy saw the look it was giving it and sighed. "Looks like it's up to me to educate you on the truths of the world…luckily for you, I've had a lot of human contracts. I've been to a lot of places. But first…"_

 _A smile fixed itself onto the tiny beings face. "Want to see something cool?"_

 _The strange child curled its lip into a smile. Its curiosity stocked. "What is it? Is it magic? Kind of like what you did to make sure those people couldn't leave?"_

 _The Fairy smiled. "Just watch…" And then it trained its eyes onto one of the groveling priests, and pointed at it with its index finger._

" _ **Zio!**_ _" the Fae said with a smirk on its face. Quick as a flash, yellow lightning zipped from the small humanoids finger, and connected to one the priest the fairy pointed at. The man's screams of agony as he was cooked alive was oddly pleasant to the child's ears. But that wasn't what she was interested in._

 _No, she was fascinated by the flavor of the_ _ **pain**_ _the man was giving off._

 _It was just so delicious! It was amazing! There was nothing to compare it to! Not even those sweets she would steal from her cousin tasted as good as what the priest was giving off!_

 _It was at this point that the child heard a *_ _ **crack**_ _* noise resound in the back of her head. She likened it to the sound of breaking glass. It was after this happened that a glint appeared in the child's eye. It then raised its hand…and pointed its finger towards the clustered holy men and women._

" _ **Zio**_ _."_

 _Lightning zipped through, and electrocuted another of the five men. His screams produced a flavor that was just so_ _ **Exquisite**_ _!_

" _Oooh! A copycat hm? Well…try copying this!" cheered out the fairy as it pointed it's finger towards the same man that she had fried._

" _ **Dia**_ _." The fairy spoke, and a bright green light glowed around the man. When the light dimmed down, it revealed the same man in the priestly robes…except he had no visible burns. And his clothing was repaired as well._

 _Again, a *_ _ **crack**_ _* noise resounded in the back of the child's skull._

 _The man was obviously bewildered. He constantly looked left and right, looking for the cause of his healing. And then his eyes drifted towards the priest that was barely breathing, and then towards the six children chained to the wall._

 _The man fell to his knees, and the child knew the flavor of_ _ **despair**_ _._

 _It was a bitter sweet taste. A rather decent one at that._

 _And then, the barely alive priest on the floor was enveloped in a bright green light, much like the other priest that got zapped by lightning. When the light dimmed down, he too was free of his burns and wounds, and the man's robe was repaired as well._

" _ **Agi**_ _!"_

 _The one women that belonged with the group, the sole nun, was then lit on fire. The children chained to the wall screamed in fright, just like they did when the priests got electrocuted. The priests too screamed, they screamed an backed up against the stone walls._

 _She screamed and screamed and screamed…until eventually, she was naught but a piece of charcoal._

" _ **Agi**_ _."_

 _Another of the priests was burned until he was nothing but a twitching black mass._

" _ **Dia**_ _." The nun was healed. And then the priest. And then cycle started anew. Moving on from gale force winds, to bone chilling ice. To iron like claws and entrails spilling curses. It was a taste of hell for the church committee._

 _The screams emanating from the basement of the Cathedral would go on for hours. Only stopping when the break of dawn approached._

 _Oddly enough, no one heard them. No one heard the priests and one nun beg for forgiveness, confessing crime after crime._

 _No one heard the pleas of wails of despair from the children chained to the wall._

 _No one heard them. No one at all._

* * *

Strolling up the street, headlights illuminating the concrete road was a police car. One without the flashing lights that regularly accompanied a police siren, but a police car nonetheless.

Following the path of the city streets, the car took a sudden turn from the regular city road, instead pulling into an alleyway. The car drove down the alley for a good minute or two, and then stopped in the middle of a spotlight cast by a nearby lamp…

…a lamp that was in the middle of a dank and dark alleyway…

The two doors at the front of the car opened, and out popped two investigation officers that seemed to be in the middle of a discussion of some kind.

"-And don't forget that tidbit Connors. If anyone asks you for a bit of 'fun', then politely decline. These people's definition of fun is completely different from a regular persons'." Spoke the one that got out from the driver's side (the left side, remember, this ain't America).

"Phelps, I'm pretty sure your exaggerating. It's not like we're dealing with some unknown element here. We're dealing with humans, people on even ground with us." Scoffed Connors as he got out from the right side of the vehicle.

As the two of them approached a door with what appeared to be a reverse hexagram symbol on it, they straightened their ties and smoothed out any creases on their suites. Phelps idly fiddled with the gun he brought, loading it up with custom bullets while his partner stared.

The stare did not go unnoticed. "Connors, this can be a very dangerous place regardless of who we work for. Do not, _I repeat_ , do not talk to anyone without me being there by your side. Keep one hand on your gun at all times, and always be ready to make a break for it." the man said with a cold hard stare.

Connors got the message. _Even I don't know how this little expidenture will turn out._ "Alright, alright. I'll be your shadow, your bodyguard. Whatever. Do I need to go for the intimidation look or do I just have to pull off the smooth suave drinking buddy routine we did last week?"

Phelps snorted at that. "Buddy, just stick by my side and be ready for anything. The folks here…aren't exactly what we would call normal. At least by natural standards." He said while putting his gun, a regular old pistol, back onto where he could easily draw it.

"So they're supernatural then? Sounds like my kind of party." Connors said with a grin. Phelps almost chocked right there, but held it in as he went forward and pushed open the door. Said door only opened when he pushed on the middle of the reverse hexagram with the palm of his hand, revealing the contents inside.

As it turns out, Nyx's bar wasn't a seedy underground bar full of drug dealers and criminal masterminds. In fact, it was a quaint little place. With a few tables, a couple of booths, a second floor, and a smoking area. All in all, a nice place to just sit down and chill.

That is if you could ignore the bars'…less than stellar patrons. In which case, the rough and tumble types that hanged around the smoking area. Armed and loaded with weapons built for killing. From a shotgun, to an assault riffle. There was even a guy sharpening a katana in a booth as a smoked from a pipe.

And then there were the…unique individuals that also prowled about the bar.

The first person Connors noted was the…cat girl…with the wolverine claws standing by a small closed off space, leaning against the wall and flickering her eyes towards him. Slited, amber eyes that looked like she was comparing him to a mouse that she had just caught.

There was the feller drinking from a glass of wine that he could see on the second floor. Slightly curly black hair, all white clothing with a red bat symbol on the back, and a sword leaning against a wall. He looked like the most normal person so far, besides the thugs hanging around the smoking area.

It was at this point that Connors noticed that Phelps was leading him towards a bar counter with a woman in a fur coat washing something. She was turned around with her back towards him, but he could just vaguely make out the earrings on her ears. It was when she was turning around that he noticed just how she-

Pausing, as if struck by something, Connors couldn't help but stare. Phelps turned around and raised an eyebrow at his partner. He followed Connors gaze and let his eyes rest on a woman in a fur coat manning the bar.

Why would he-oh…oh dear.

He was besmitten with Nyx. Lovely. Trust his partner to actually go gaga over the owner of the bar they were currently at to try and get answers.

Lovely, he cursed. This was going to be nothing short of bothersome. Sighing, he decided to get his partner back on track…by smacking him upside the head. Gibs style.

"The hell man?" Connors whined as he fixed his black tie in an effort to make himself look better. This was not the first time he had been hit like that. He was generally the recipient of gibs smacks from just about anyone. Both outside his department, and outside. Even the boss lady got in on it.

 **Especially** the boss lady!

"Shut it, I warned you. You have no idea what that woman can do. So just can it and let me do all the work will you?" the man nearly snarled.

Pushy. If there was one thing Connors had yet to see of his partner, it was him being pushy. As well as a dick. And a paranoid fuck. But, there's a first time for everything…this was just one of those times.

Following his lead, Connors and Phelps took two stools in front of the bar. Setting his eyes towards the back of the bar, he began to see what was in stock. There were some fine wines, a couple of brands he recognized, some he didn't.

There were some regular beers as well. However, there were some things that he couldn't recall ever seeing in any other bar. Hell, some of them he didn't even recognize them as alcohol. For one, at the bottom shelf, there were these strange…"Bead" like…crystal ball things. They curved at one end, and kinda looked like one half of a yin-yang symbol.

Strange. Maybe they were part of a collection. He didn't count the exact amount, but he knew that there were at least more than twenty of them. Easily twice that number. Just what the hell were those things?

Now the drinks he didn't recognize were completely **strange**. They looked like they slightly glowed, something that immediately rang alarm bells in his mind. More red flags were raised when he saw that there was some kind of…substance moving up and down inside of them. That certainly made him freak slightly.

It was then that he was reminded of what his partner kept on telling him. That this place wasn't a normal bar. Kicking himself, he began to analyze the area around him. From the hardwood floors that were polished and completely spot free, to the wax that kept the bar counter clean without mark.

He turned his eyes, but didn't turn to look, towards the left. He could see the cat looking woman eyeing like a piece of prey. Looking closer, he could faintly make out the droplets of blood on the claw arm.

His eyes narrowed and he began to finger the gun in his coat pocket. Priming it ready for a quick draw shot. There was no way he was going to act comfortable in this place anymore.

He turned his eyes to the right, seeing one of the gruff looking people, and noticing the many, many scars that littered the mans face. His brown, army reminiscent clothes were torn and frizzled. As if he had just recently gotten out of a fight and stopped by at this bar to rest before going home.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Phelps chatting up the bartender. Who also happened to double as this absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous older woman in a fur coat. She just had this air that screamed 'Sophisticated'.

And then his eyes narrowed when he saw Phelps bring out a piece of paper and put it on the bar counter, beckoning the bartender (who Connors was pretty sure was actually the bar owner) to come closer and take a look. The detective couldn't get a decent look, but he was pretty sure that whatever was on the piece of paper looked like some kind of fancy hexagram. However, his attention was grabbed by something else.

A sudden * **Thwack** * caught drew his curiosity elsewhere. And with the swiftness of someone who regularly exercised a couple of hours each day, he drew his gun and levied his attention towards the sound that erupted to his left. Pointing his gun at the unexpected noise.

His eyes fell onto the figure from the second floor. His hands were around the head of some kind of scantily clad woman with bat wings, pushing her against the bar counter. Her head was being pressed by the mans large hands. The man in the white coat tilted his head and gazed into the barrel of Connors' gun.

"It would seem that my assistance wasn't needed…" muttered the man as he let go of the scantily clad bat-lady. Said woman scowled at the white clad swordsman, and then huffed and walked away. The White clad man with the red bat symbol on his back turned his gaze towards Connors's eyes. The man then smiled and held out his hand.

"My name is Kresnik. What is yours my good fellow?" he asked with a kind smile. His voice, unsurprisingly, was of a rather deep baritone. Connors put his gun back into the folds of his coat, eyes never leaving those of Kresnik. Finally he relented and shook the man's and. "Henry. Detective Henry Connors."

The man grinned at that. "Ah, a member of the force. What brings you here to Nyx's bar?" he asked while sitting down. Oddly enough, the moment he sat down the bar owner put a glass full of wine down in front of him, while also putting down a glass of whiskey on front of Connors.

Looking down, Connors could see Phelps looking at him with a critical eye. As if warning him not to make small talk…or talk at all.

Well, to hell with that. Kresnik just got him a drink…and he wasn't so bad…so far.

"Well…" began Connors, watching the bar lady walk back over to Phelps. "There was a murder in an alleyway early this evening." He said, noticing the hard look that came into the white clad mans' eyes. "I never saw what happened in the alleyway…but my partner over there" he motioned towards the man, "felt that we could get some answers by coming here."

"Interesting…odd that a murder like that would happen two days after…" Kresnik muttered under his breath. It was low, but Connors heard it. he didn't press however, merely filed it away for future reference.

"Was there anything else that was strange…about this murder location? Anything amiss?" prodded the man as he took a sip of his wine. Connors swept his eyes to the side to peek at his partner, noting that he was still chatting up the bar owner, trying to prod for information.

' _Well…two can play at that game mister…_ '

"The only other thing strange involves a major car accident at 1'o'clock this morning. An investigation born of curiosity was made…and shocking facts were discovered. Ever heard of a man by the name of Vernon Dursley?"

It was bait. Something to draw in the mans attention. Would it work? Judging by the attention that Kresnik was fixing him with, Connors would say that he had succeeded.

"Vernon Dursley. Businessman, family caretaker. Respected in his neighborhood, held in high regard by his boss…and secret child torturer in the closet."

Connors could almost feel the coldness radiating off of the man sitting next to him as he took a shot of whiskey.

"And…how did you find about the man's skeletons?" asked the white clad man as he took a sip of his fine wine. His face set in a stony, cold expression.

"As it turns out, the poor kid is in actually the man's niece." He locked eyes with the man sitting next to him. "Locked in a cupboard. Beneath the stairs. Infested by spiders. Covered in dust. With only a mattress and a sheet that needed to be cleaned."

At this point he needed to say no more. But why stop there? Why not add more cheese to the pizza?

"Scratches littering the walls of the cupboard. Blood stains on the wall and door. And a pair of broken glasses, as well as broken glass scattered beneath the mattress."

There was a bit of silence between the two men as they each took sips/shots of their respective drinks. Which were refilled by the bar owner.

"And…what happened to this…Vernon Dursley?" calmly asked the man without much telling of any emotion. But Connors could see it. If the tight grip of his sword's scabbard was anything to go by.

"That car wreck I mentioned? He died in it. As well as his family. Interesting fact is…we never found the abused kid. In fact, when we searched outside of the wreck…we found interestingly shaped tracks in the mud. Like someone was pulling themselves through the muck, trying to save themselves. There were drops of blood pointing towards the alleyway I mentioned earlier as well." He replied with a grimace. Recounting the details so far didn't exactly bring up happy memories. What he failed to mention was the pieces of skin and gastric juices that were littered in the mud as well.

Again, silence reigned. Eventually it was broken. By the white clad man. He took a sip of his wine, before setting the empty glass on the bar counter. It wasn't refilled this time. "About three days ago a group of five men and woman came into this bar. They approached a handsome looking man and made a deal with him." he said.

Turning to the side, Connors raised an eyebrow at the man. Kresnik did not turn to face him. "I don't know what the details were, I was on the second floor at the time so I didn't see what exactly happened. All that I know is that they bared the insignia for the cult of Gaea, and that they received a book in return for a magatama jewel."

Connors had to smile at that. "Thank you. You've been a big help in this case Mr. Kresnik. Have a good day, and take care."

And like that, he left his spot by the man and walked up to his partner, who had signaled him to get up and follow him out. Connors had to let out a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the bar. Being in that place just made him on guard, like he could be attacked at any moment.

That, and coupled with the bar's…unsavory guests, as well as the couple of people that made his hair stand on end, like the cat girl…well, it was more than reason enough to want to get out and dodge.

He was broken out of his thoughts by his partner, who had opened up his side, the driver's side, and was about to get into the car.

"I ain't got much. I got that something was stolen five days ago, and that a bounty was placed out on a woman. Dursley had apparently pissed off someone who had connections to a mercenary troupe. Kind of explains the foul play in the wreck. Did you get anything on your end?" gruffly asked Phelps as he got himself seated into the police car.

Connors, who had also climbed into the vehicle, turned to stare at Phelps as he pulled down his seatbelt and buckled in. "Yeah I got a few tidbits...one question first though."

"And what would that be?" replied Phelps, a tired look in his eyes as he started up the car. Connors took one look at his eyes and yawned. A tired yawn, not a yawn because he wasn't breathing enough.

"Yeah. What the hell is the Cult of Gaea?"

* * *

"Isn't it amazing what a little hypnosis can do? Just mess with one persons mind and you can immediately just crash at their house and raid the fridge to your hearts leisure." Smirked the fairy as it flied backwards, positioned as if she was lying down, through the doorway into the living room of the apartment.

The demon-child had wanted to go to sleep after feeding off of the church people's emotions. However, the fairy would have none of that. The fairy would take only the most relaxing of accommodations. And as such, had dragged the child toward The Dorchester, a rather luxurious hotel in London.

The child however, was spending her time switching channels on the flat screen T.V that was attached to the wall away from the incredibly comfy couch. In the child's hand was a glass of orange juice, which she was happily sucking out through a swirly bendy straw.

On the couch, by the demon-child's was a fruit bowl, which the fairy soon descended upon and began to ravage the grapes. The child payed it no mind as she dug into a bag of cheetos that she filched from the small pantry. The fairy idly stared at what her contractor had decided to watch…at 1'o'clock in the morning.

"Digimon Savers? Doesn't that season suck compared to the other ones?" drawled out the fairy as it took out a chunk of a strawberry. The juice almost splattering her, if it didn't immediately evaporate off of her in small bouts of steam.

The child only took a sip from her orange juice. "Never watched the show. I was either always working or being locked up in my cupboard. Dudley never let me watch T.V. But I remember seeing this show on some times. Though it might be nice to actually watch it."

The fairy, for her part, only raised an eyebrow. "Huh." She said while taking another bite out of a orange. Her eyes never leaving the T.V screen as Belphemon ravaged Tokyo. "I thought abuse was frowned upon in human society? Weird. Wasn't this Vernon guy your uncle?" she asked the demon-child.

At that, the half-demon frowned. "I think it is. But whenever I told anyone about it they talked with uncle Vernon and didn't do anything. I kinda stopped trying after a while. Less yellings from him that way." The child admitted as she stuck her hand back into the bag of cheetos (jalapeño, extra crunchy cheetos) and shoved another mouthful of the snack food into her mouth.

At that, the fairy stopped and looked at her contractor with a critical eye. Before shrugging and going back to watching Marcus Daimon punch a mega level digimon in the face. "You know, your oddly nonchalant about your uncle. Blew off some steam in that alleyway didn't you?" the fairy smirked in remembrance of the sight she saw upon being summoned into the mortal world.

At that, the demon-child shrugged. "Probably. I mean, when I woke up in that alleyway after…whatever it was that weird man put in my eye I kind of just saw each of those guys as my uncle. That and I was just so angry…it was pretty fun though. Kind of want to do it again." The child said with a smirk as she watched ShineGreymon Burst Mode level a badass death glare towards Belphemon/Kurata.

The fairy grinned at that. "A girl after my own heart." She snickered to herself as she lounged about on the couch. A wistful sigh escaped the fairy's mouth after she layed down on the couch, her head resting on her propped up arm. "Wish there was a computer in here. I haven't been on the internet in a long time. Or the Amala for that matter…"

"What's the Amala?" asked the child curiously. Another sip from the bendy straw draining the last of the orange juice. Seeing this, the child proceeded to reach down to the floor, and pulled a packet of orange juice off of the carpet. Held it over the glass, and used its index finger of its incredibly sharp claw hand to cut open the packet, pouring it into the glass.

The child then threw the empty packet behind her, and onto trash pile behind the couch. It would seem that the cleanup crew was going to have a ball cleaning up this room.

"Huh." Said the fairy as it tapped one finger on its chin. "How to describe the Amala network…" mumbled the fairy before she turned to face the female child. "Think of it like the demon equivalent of the human's internet. Except a lot more…chaotic if that was even possible. Demons used to only use it to get some free magutsuhi. But in recent times it's more of a information trade network. With a pay-in, pay-out dispenser at any and all terminals. Humans use it to ya know?"

At that, the demon child blinked a few times, before taking its attention away from the T.V screen. "How does that work?" the child asked with a tilt of its head. Confusion marrying its face. The fairy blinked in surprise, before raising an eyebrow towards its contractor.

"Unusually bright for a six year old-just-turned-into-a-demon-child-that-Was-formally-abused…" the fairy muttered under its breath. And then its eyes blinked twice before she slapped her own forehead. "Of course if she was turned into a demon at a young age unlike the first one then it would make sense for the transformation to effect her in more than one way…" she mumbled, taking in another grape into digging into it with vicious abadon.

"You still haven't answered my question." The half-human's words snapped the fairy out of lala-land and brought its attention back to its conversation partner.

The fairy took a deep breath, gorged on another orange slice, and then breathed out. "Well, unlike the human internet the Amala network is only accessible from terminals specifically made to tune themselves into it. While the internet can be accessed from anything with a wifi access. And I mean anything. Even a freaking toaster can access the internet. Trust me, I took a contract from a nutjob that did just that."

There was a bit of silence after that. That silence was only broken when the show on the T.V went into the credits. The voice of the demon child broke through the sounds of the fairy devouring the fruits of the bowl with a ravenous delight.

"…You know, I never got your name."

More silence. That, and a fairy shrug. "Don't have one. Most demons just refer to me as Pixie. But that's more of my kind of demon than anything else. Pixie of the fairy clan."

"Oh." Said the demon child as it watched the T.V screen show the intro to a show in a futuristic setting about a delivery boy wearing goggles and riding a hover board.

"My names Lilith. Just Lilith."

At that, Pixie snorted. "Really? Lilith? Just wait till you meet the actual Lilith. You know, the first woman?"

Confusion. And a frowny face. "Never heard of her."

The fairy stopped ripping apart a poor peach and looked at Lilith, who was sitting right next to her, sipping on a glass of orange juice. "Ever read the bible?"

"Never went to church. Uncle always told me that someone like me would never be accepted there. He was always mean when he had those glowy eyes."

A sigh. "That's probably a good thing. Half of it's a bunch of fancy lies; the other half is just a recounting of all the reasons why one should never fight for the side of Law."

A curios tilt of the head. "The side of Law?"

A hand wave. "Law, Chaos, different sides of the same war. We'll get to them later. But first, I have one question to ask you. Ever been on the internet?"

"…no…"

"I am going to educate you. By the time I'm done with you, you will have learned all of the important truths of the world."

"…Why are your eyes sparkling? And why do I feel scared just by looking at that smile on your face?"

"Probably because by the time I'm done with you, you won't be an innocent murder happy child. Now then, change it to channel 387. That's the station South Park plays on."

* * *

"Now then…what have you two gotten so far?"

And like that, a sheet of files flopped down onto the police chief's desk. The room was a boring white and grey. With a white ceiling with lights that shined down on the room, and a grey carpet that was intermixed with thin strips of blue and red.

Of course the woman herself as wearing a black business suit, as well as a black skirt that went down to her knees. Showing off some leg, but not a whole lot. Her dark red hair was still over one eye, and still trailed down her back and glossed over her shoulder.

Henry Connors and Takami Phelps stood in front of the seated woman on the other side of her desk. Connors was wearing a dark blue suit with a white tie, while Phelps was wearing a black suit with a red tie. Both were wearing fedoras. However Connors' had a checkerboard motif, while Phelps's was a rather blank black.

The police chief took the folder and began to skim through it. Stopping at one file and looking at the two detectives with a raised eyebrow. "The cult of Gaea? What's their involvement in this?"

It was Phelps that answered. "Their involvement is the summoning circle in the alleyway. The one with the dismembered body strewn everywhere. You remember right?" A nod was sent in his direction. As well as a hand gesture that translated to 'go on.'

"No doubt forensics has already told you how many people where in that alleyway right?" he prodded, asking for confirmation.

"Five men and one woman. Took a while, but they got it. We even have the I.D's of the people involved in whatever went down in that alleyway. I sent their files to your desk earlier this morning." She then took a sip from her mug of coffee, and reclined back into her chair.

Connors spoke up then. "Those six people where members of this cult. I found out that they supposedly made a deal with someone that was described as handsome. All that I found out was that they gave the man a kind of bead-shaped jewel in return for a book of sorts."

At that, the police chief's eyes swiveled towards Phelps. "Do you think it was a book on summoning demons?"

At that, Phelps nodded and Connors grimaced. By now, he had had an entire nights rests to think on what he had learned. About the world, about the demons that infested the world. About the eternal war going on between the forces of Law and Chaos. And of how each side didn't truly care about humanity as a whole, merely seeing them as a means to an end.

The police chief sighed. And then focused her attention back onto Phelps. "While I'm used to dealing with the supernatural, demons are something new to me. I'm more used to the unsavory side of humanity…what do you think happened down there? Was it a summoning gone wrong?"

Phelps frowned, and then shuffled his hands into his pockets. "The thing is, while it was complete amateur work, it was still a successful summons. What probably happened is that even though they succeeded in summoning whatever it was that came out of the portal, they probably royally screwed up the negotiations."

Both Connors and the Police Chief frowned. "Explain." Ordered the woman sitting at her desk.

Clearing his throat, Phelps began to elaborate. "Think of it like this, even if you make a contract with a demon, they will need a down payment before they bind themselves to you. That's where things get tricky. You see, some can be bribed to work with you. Others will want specific items, like a certain jewel or valuable item. Others…well, others you just have to have a way with words. Some will join your side if you can tell them a damn good joke, impress them with your character, or even if you promise to be their friend."

And then his face scowled. "However, most of them will attack you if you fail to win them over. Some of them will just hightail out of there with the items you bribed them with. And others will just flat out ignore you if you can't impress them. It's a tricky business, and one that can easily kill you if you make one misstep."

"And what happens when the summoners get killed by the demon he or she summoned?"

"…Then the demon does whatever. It will either return from whence it came…or it will wonder off and do as it pleases."

At that, the Police Chiefs eyes hardened as she stared at the detective. "Are you telling me that there is a demon…an honest to god demon, running around my city…and no one knows about the danger it presents? About what kind of destruction it can do? A demon that we don't even know the identity of? A demon that could very well be as strong as a goddamn earthquake!?" she yelled out, eyes hard and cold as the frozen north, and her hands slammed down onto the desk. Her mouth was warped into a snarl that conveyed the outrage she was feeling at this moment.

"Not necessarily. It's just one of two possibilities."

At that, the Police Chief sat back down, and fixed a glare towards Phelps. "One of two? What's the other situation we could have on our hands?"

Phelps turned to his partner. Connors met his gaze and nodded his head. The Police Chief swiveled her head towards the white-tied detective. "Alright…" he said, reaching for a pack of cigars, but found that they weren't on him. Silently cursing, the man moved on.

"About 1'o'clock in the morning yesterday there was a car wreck. A big one, with lots of casualties and injured people. Me and Phelps went around and did a bit of investigating, found signs of foul play. One of the people in the accident, a dead guy by the name of Vernon Dursley, had a history of pissing off people by making unexpected business deals and generally screwing people over. Generic stuff."

The detective then began to pace around. "Thing is, we kind of suspected some kind of foul play going on with the man. Shady shit. Like cloak and dagger bullshit we normally deal with here in the police force. Turns out, we were right. Well, kind of. The man was messed up in the head, super paranoid. Like jumping at shadows kind of paranoid. So we went up to his house to do a bit of investigating. That's when the weird shit started happening."

The police Chief raised an eyebrow. But did nothing to stop the man from recounting the events from his perspective.

"The neighborhood was…how to put it…? Completely creepy. All the houses were the same. Perfect lawn, perfect white picket fence. And it felt like everyone in the area was watching us or something. I get out of the car, and I see Phelps looking at the window of the house belonging to some random old lady. He waves at her, and she shuts the blinds. Rude, yes, I know. That's when we split; Phelps went up to the Dursley house, while I went and asked the lovely locals some simple questions. What I got…ain't pretty."

At that, the Police Chief groaned. "And this all started as a car wreck. Now it's involving demons and the supernatural world. What did you find out?" she asked as she pulled out a bottle of wine from her bottommost desk drawer on the left side.

Phelps's eyes lit up when he saw the bottle. "Goddamn that is one hell of an old bottle of wine. Think I can have some?"

A snort. "Maybe later when you solve this case Phelps. Connors, continue."

Connors had to push down a snigger. "What I got was backstory that made me question the people in the neighborhood. They painted Vernon Dursley as this kind man who valued work efficiency and took care of what seemed to be the perfect family. As in, they were a living family that was a model all should aspire to. That he was a decidedly normal and all that other bullcrap. I think there's something in the water, because between those people definition of normal, and the rest of the worlds, something is obviously getting mixed up and-"

"Connors!" barked the Police Chief. "Focus!"

"Er…right. Sorry." He at least had the decency to look sheepish. He then cleared his throat…again. "Apparently the only black spot that was the Dursley family was the man's niece-in-law, one Lilith Potter. Who was apparently some kind of deranged, messed up, drug chugging kid of a whopping age of _six_. She was apparently destined for St. Brutus for the criminally insane or something. After a while I just began to tune out the bullshit that each member of the neighborhood kept on regurgitating. Although none of that compares to the shit Phelps found in the Dursley's house." He said with a pointed thumb.

The Police Chief switched her gaze from Connors, and back to Phelps. "Apparently, living in hiding, all over the world, from London to the USA, to China, and every country in the world, are magical societies. As in, witches and Wizards. Magic. Humans born with their own breed of magic, not like the demon magic a summoner can gain with the aid of the Demon Summoning Program."

At that revelation, the Police Chief groaned. "Another supernatural world? Just what we needed. _Another one_."

Connors spoke up with a grin. "I read through the journals and crap Phelps had me grab. Apparently they're kind of stuck in Victorian times, or at least something close to it. And the magic they do…it's friggin' hilarious! All they do is wave a want and say a bunch of funny words and then shit happens! It's great! Apparently they have some kind of spell-thingy-mah-jig that lets them have an upper almost instantly! They apparently learn that one when their thirteen years old!" the man laughed out while his partner punched the bridge of his nose.

However, the Police Chief wasn't putting up with any of that. She slammed her fist on the table like a judge would a gravel. Her frosty, ice-like eyes glaring at the detective. "Connors. While I find this revelation fascinating, would you please continue on? We have little time to waste."

The man put his hands in front of him, a general sing of surrender. "Gotcha boss lady, I gotcha." And then his face lost its cheer. "Back to the topic at hand, the whole neighborhood of private drive couldn't be any more wrong about the truth behind the man known as Vernon Dursley. Inside his house there was a cupboard. That cupboard was where the mans niece slept. You might want to look at the very back of that folder ma'am. It should give you an idea of what we found. And like I said…it ain't pretty."

A grimace found its way onto the Police Chiefs face. She idly noted that she had been doing that more often as of late. Shrugging the thought away she reached for the slightly crumpled folder of files, and then stopped when she got to the very back.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. "I do believe that Vernon Dursley will not be receiving a grave. Or a funeral for that matter. In fact, I would say that he won't even be remembered at all." She spoke in a perfectly calm and even voice. However, if one looked hard enough, they would see the terrible and frightening flames hidden behind her icy cold eyes.

"Message received Chief…" saluted Phelps. Connors just looked at his boss with a frown. Without receiving any word from his boss, he continued on.

"Now, after Phelps ran out of the house like a bat out of hell, and told me to grab a box and get a move on, he drove us back towards the scene of the wreck. By then it was mostly cleaned up, but we were able to find some things we didn't the first time around. Things like…rather interestingly shaped tracks with bits and pieces of flesh, as well as droplets of blood mixed into the muck."

And now, he had the attention of his boss. He continued on.

"We followed these tracks to an alleyway…an alleyway that was swarming police. One of them comes up to us and tells us that the Police Chief with the finest ass in the world wanted to talk to us. Naturally, we found it weird and all, but orders are orders. So we go up to meet our fair and noble leader…and well, you know the rest at that point right?"

"You still haven't told me what this second scenario of yours is." The stern woman stated with a frown…and was that a tint of pink that Connors saw? He dismissed it as a trick of the light and focused on his partner, who had taken in a deep breath.

"There were only six victims. Five men and one woman. If the tracks lead us to the alleyway were the summoning ritual happened…then where's the body of the girl?"

And like that, the proverbial gears in the head of the Police Chief began to whir. And then they stopped when the realization dawned on her.

"Are you saying…that instead of the demon killing on those cult of Gaea members…it instead made a contract with Vernon Dursley's niece? That it killed six of those people…but took the girl with it?" questioned the dark red haired woman, who had pursed her lips and was staring at Phelps.

It was Connors that spoke up. "It seems like a more likely action the demon would take. If what I got from the journals and dairies we got from the Dursley's house, that kid is supposedly of Witch/Wizard blood. Maybe she did something that gained it the attention and favor of the demon summoned? Or maybe it was impressed with what the kid had done. Surviving a car accident and literally crawling towards an alleyway that was about a half mile distance through the rain and muck. That's pretty damn unbelievable for a kid to do."

"Do we know what she looks like?"

"Black hair, emerald green eyes. Small body, probably due to malnourishment. Possibly scared of everything around her. Gonna put out a word for every cop in town to look for her, and report any sightings?" answered Phelps. His arms crossed across his chest.

"Do you even have to ask? I'll be doing it first thing after you two leave my office. The kids probably crying in some corner alone with only a demon of unknown nature there for comfort. The kid might be illiterate too if the level of abuse is anything to go by. Probably going to have to do something to help the kid get a start on an actual education.

* * *

"And once you're done with that, you can get started on this!"

The book flopped down onto the library table.

"What's pride and prejudice about?"

"It's about why you don't make deals with demons of the vile clan."

* * *

I only have one last question at this point. Just why would those cult of Gaea people try to summon a demon? What is the purpose behind it all?"

At that question, the Police Chief turned to the only one among the three of them that could qualify as an 'expert' among demons. Phelps frowned as he stroked his chin, a bit of a perma stubble hanging onto it.

"The cult of Gaea has always preached an ideology that only the strong should survive. That, and freewill is paramount. They don't discriminate, they accept any and all, human or not. As long as the person joining is strong, they can join. If they were attempting to summon a demon, and not rely on their own strength…then that probably means they were trying to gain more power to fight something. But the question to that is…what?"

It was at that moment that the door to the Police Chiefs office slammed open, and a wide-eyed man entered, looking incredibly stressed and scared.

"Boss…you gotta come and see this. It's freaky, like what the fuck kind of freaky." The man breathed out. His back was hunched and his knees were bent like he was ready to move out at a moment's notice.

The Chief got out of her seat and adorned her white fur coat. She then opened her drawer and pulled out a gun, a six-shot revolver to be exact. She then walked to a corner of her office, and grabbed a saber off of the wall, as well as it's scabbard, and sheathed the blade. She then walked over to the haggard looking man with the sheathed sword held in one hand. The detective duo had already cocked and loaded their guns, using the special ammo that Phelps used for his gun.

"What exactly is going on Steven? What's happening? Where?" the Chief asked, her voice stern and commanding.

"I don't know what the fuck I saw. It was at the London Library…It was some kind of…huge, Chinese…lady thing. It was terrifying boss…it was eating people! She just ripped them apart and gobbled them up! What kind of monster is it!?" the man yelled out as he looked to his superior for directions.

Phelps and Connors shared a look, and a grimace. However the Police chief looked at the scared man in front of her. "Steven, call in any and all available officers. Tell them to get the civilians away from that library…as well as to pack heat. Go! Now!"

"Yes ma'am!" and like that, he scurried to work. Sending out one giant call for all those out in the city to hear.

With him gone, the Police Chief turned to the two detectives. "Either this is whatever the cult of Gaea was preparing for…or it's the demon that was summoned yesterday. I honestly don't know which one I would prefer it to be. Phelps, do you think you can call in any help from your contacts?"

The man's frown deepened. "Afraid not Chief. Demon summoners and demon tamers don't exactly…work together. Or with each other for that matter. Not unless you belong to a specific group or gang. Although I do know someone who might be willing to help…I'll have to call up Nyx for that thought."

At that, Connors turned to his partner. "How the hell did you get that beauty's phone number!? Seriously, you had the number of a literal goddess and you didn't tell me!?" the man exclaimed, aghast at his partner.

Said man glared at his partner. "Now's not the time Connors, we have work to do!"

"He's right." Spoke the Police Chief. Her eyes cold clear ice. Commanding, and driven. She fixed the two of them with a hard stare that made them straighten themselves before her.

"Gentleman, tis' time for us to go kill a monster."

* * *

Potter Manor, the dwelling place of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. An old, old magic family with trace roots in Egypt, Greece, and Scotland. Rumored to be descendent of the famous Wizard, Godric Gryffindor himself. And claimed to be the descendents of the Peveral brothers as well. They were of old blood. Ancient and powerful. However, not all of the Potter family could claim to be of old blood.

Lily-Evans-Potter, the wife of Auror James Potter, and the mother of the Boy-Who-Lived himself. Hailed as the best, and most brightest Witch of her generation, and had recently woken up from working herself to death trying to come up with a new charm.

Blearily, she rose up from her spot on the bed. Idly, she noticed that there was an empty spot when there shouldn't be, meaning her husband had already left for work. That meant that she had either overslept, or that her husband had already waken the kids up, and was taking care of them while she slept.

' _You need to sleep lils. You probably need it even more than I do._ ' He had told her. And it would seem that he had abided by that statement as well, considering that he didn't even bother to wake her up.

Blinking her eyes, Lily moved to get herself out of bed. Slipping on the pink, fluffy house shoes that looked like bunnies onto her feet, and putting on a robe. She faintly heard the voices of Remus Lupin as he chased after William, Lilith's twin brother.

The Lady of house Potter suddenly stopped in her tracks. The name _Lilith_ reverberating inside of her head.

Her mind conjured forth images that always brought both a smile to her face, and a terrible pang of sorrow inside of her heart.

' _she would have been six years old by now…_ ' the Lady Potter thought with a sad sigh. She then began to immerse herself in thoughts and memories of the child that she had pushed out into the world, the child that she loved. The child that she would have died for if it ever came to that.

The child that she abandoned. Left her in the care of her sister and her husband.

' _We'll take care of her. After all, if she's too good for you, then she's good enough for us._ '

The words of her sister were always filled with spite. Spite and jealousy. It was always the same with her. Their relationship just never was the same after they had found out that she was a Witch. It was well and truly the thing that had broken their relationship.

With the memories of the child she once held in arms in her mind, Lily began to make her way towards the Potter family tree. It was a parchment that was essentially magic!super glued to a wall outside of her and her husband's bedroom.

It was a ritual for her at this point. Wake up in the morning, immerse herself in memories of times past, and look at the family tree. There was never any real point in doing so, but it was a habit turned into a repeated action for her.

Her eyes landed on Dorea and Charles Potter, James parents, and the reason why her children were still alive to this day. They had given their lives so that her children may live. Taking the Dark Lord Voldemort to the grave with them. It was their sacrificial magic that allowed the killing curse to bounce off of William. And she would be eternally grateful to them for doing so.

Her eyes then trailed down to tree roots connected Dorea and Charles Potter to their son, James Potter. The man on the family tree was smiling. It was when it winked at her that she giggled. The antics of her husband, portrait or not, will always amuse her. She then trailed over slightly to the right, and smiled at her portrait on the family tree, but that smile fell when she gazed at the portrait in front of her.

It was crying. Confusion marred Lily Potters face as she stared at her family tree portrait. The image on the tree simply looked at her, and then pointed down.

Now why would-oh.

No.

No no no…

Horrified, Lily Potter slowly backed away from the Potter family tree. Tears gathering in her eyes, and her hands moving to cover her mouth. A horrified gasp came out from it as she fell to her knee.

' _Nononono! Please, no! Not my Lilith! NOT MY LILITH!_ '

"Hey Lily I just wanted to ask you-what's going on?" came the voice of Remus Lupin as he swiftly got down on one knee and began to shake Lily, trying to provoke a reaction.

All that she did was shakily point her finger towards the family tree. Remus followed where she was pointing with her finger, and drew in a short, gasping breath.

The frame around Lilith Potter had darkened, losing the shiny golden color. And just like the portraits of Dorea and Charles Potter…hers did not move.

 **Lilith Potter was dead.** And like a damn burst, Lily began to wail her sorrow out to the world.

* * *

 **This took a little while to do. I'm starting to get my writing mojo back. About damn time too, was getting board of Netflix anyway.**

 **So here we are with the second installment of this…reboot? Retelling? Reimagining? Whatever. A bar was visited. Concepts were introduced. Lilith tortured people. Connors and Phelps made progress on the case. The Police Chief got her answers. And poor, poor Lily has just found out that the little girl that she loved is dead…well sort of.**

 **To anyone who knows just what demon is attacking the library, don't tell in the reviews. I have recently been able to barrow a friends copy of SMT 4. And I am playing the shit out of it. Gotta go Chaos first, always. Law second. And then on the third playthrough do neutral. Although I have heard that getting the neutral path in SMT 4 is rather tough. Oh well, I'm having fun (even though I'm getting my ass kicked-FUCK YOU DAVID).**

 **Still wondering when SMT 4 finale is coming out…if it hasn't already. Gonna check up on that. One more chapter to go, and we will be out of the first arc of this story. The Prolouge is almost done people. After this, it's diagon alley, and then onwards to Hogwarts.**

 **Gonna ask a question here, when I introduce luna, what kind of Luna do you people want her to be?**

 **Option A: the much overused Seer!Luna.**

 **Option B: Fruit Loops!Luna. The one where she's just coocoo for coco puffs.**

 **Option C: What I call Bloodborne!Luna. It's where she has the insight from that game. Meaning she knows the eldritch truth of the world…and that she may or may or may not have the blood of an great one flowing through her.**

 **Which one shall it be? The choices are yours, and yours alone! Now go forth into the shrine of the silver monkey!**

 **AND THAT'S ALL SHE WROTE!**

 **CUE THE AIRHORNS!**

 **BABABABWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!**


	3. Demons and Humans: Part One

… **I am sorry for the wait.**

 **Things have been…hectic lately. And not just college. Its things like wisdom teeth, dry socket, volunteering for things, helping out with helping the homeless, and getting addicted to JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. Steel Ball Run was fucking awesome in my opinion. And Joseph became my favorite JoJo after surviving against Kars, AND THE VOLCANO.**

 **But I digress (line stolen shamelessly from clement). This is going to be a two parter. This is Part one of Demons and Humans. Enjoy.**

* * *

 **Demons and Humans: Part One**

If there was one thing that Lilith enjoyed, it would be stories. That, and alone time. Away from people. She had a…very peculiar mindset towards people. People, humans specifically, where mean, malicious, and cruel. She was speaking from personal experience of course considering she was the outcast among humans, a black sheep, only meant to be rejected by those around her.

And then she got stuck in a car wreck. And was barely able to remember the sequence of events from that time, even though it was only two or so days ago. The only thing that she could recall was the pain, and the desire to live. That alone fueled her crawl until she…well, she couldn't quite remember. But the outcome of whatever happened after she stated into a set of eyes, one red and the other blue, was obvious.

She had become a demon. Or a half-Fiend according to Pixie, her only source of guidance on what to do with her life now. And if there was one thing that she would readily admit, was that she enjoyed living as a demon compared to her tenure as a human. For one, she could eat the emotions of people! She could control the elements! But best of all…

She wasn't weak! She could fight back against those that would hurt her! And she was strong to boot!

Well, if being able to lift up a car with both hands was considered strong then she was. Ironically enough (that was a new word she just learned!), despite her size, Pixie could do that as well. In fact, Pixie could do a lot of things that she didn't expect her to be able to do. Like create shiny magic sphere things, and shoot lighting out of her finger. She learned how to do the last thing just from watching her friend- her first ever one!- do it. She got called a copy-cat by the small fairy, but she said it with a smile.

That honestly confused her. Did that mean that she was mad at her…or happy at her? Was that something she would be 'educated' on as well? There was so many new things that Pixie was introducing to her. Like of why the Vile clan of demons can all go 'die in a fire' and why stereotypes exist, and how to make fun of them.

She still had yet to be introduced to the internet. And although she was in no hurry to learn what exactly the internet was, she was still curious about whatever '4chan' was, and why she should stay away from it. However, at the end of the day, there were still some things she was worried about.

Namely her place in the world. What was she supposed to do now? Her uncle was dead- a fact that still did not stem the **rage, hate, and anger** she held inside her formerly-human body- and no one in the world knew about her. She had no other family, and no plans for the future other than to survive.

She was free, and yet she didn't know what to do. She had no place to go to, and no place to go back to. The world was her oyster, but she didn't know how to open it. Such was the dilemma that held her min at the moment.

A frown marrying her face, she went back to examining the bookshelf that the nice librarian lady had pointed her to. She added said librarian lady to the file of 'nice humans' in her head after she was pointed towards the small row of comic books that were imported from America.

So far, she was not impressed. Seriously, these were pretty stupid. Who in their right mind would go out and save the day while wearing their underwear on the outside of their outfits? And what was with the spandex? The only one that she actually liked out of all of the ones that she had riffled through was the guy in the bat costume.

That was guy was cool. Wasn't there a show about this guy from somewhere? Last she heard from Dudley (literally) was that it was a good show.

"Oh. Batman huh? Remind me to introduce you to the sixties batman show. It's probably one of the greatest things humans invented."

Turning her head, Lilith was mildly surprised to see Pixie hovering over her shoulder. She had done that a few times already, normally when she was reading through a book. Oddly enough, unlike when she was a human, she didn't have a problem reading big words, or even stuttered at all when trying to pronounce something.

Pixie explained it off as something involving a 'sundering of languages' applying to humans and not demons. She mentioned a tower of something as well, but she didn't really get what her mini-friend was saying. She kinda tuned her out when she began trying to make sense of the strange tango dance thing the humans in the illustration she was looking at were doing.

A little while later she put back the 'Kama Sutra' back into the shelf. She couldn't make heads or tails of the drawings inside. There were a bunch of fancy words next to each drawing, but she didn't care for those. She wanted to read through a picture book, like Dudley did all the time. That was one of the things she had always wanted to do, but never could.

Back to the matter at hand, there was a question Lilith had wanted to ask the little fairy earlier, but before she could ask, Pixie had flown away to look for a 'Xanth' book, whatever that was. It was something that had been prickling the back of her mind for a while. Originating from an old instinct she had developed around her cousin.

"Hey Pixie, mind if I ask you something?" she said as she turned her head to look at the small fairy as she layed down on her shoulder, her head propped up on her elbow, making her hair fall over one of her eyes, slightly obscuring it.

The leotard wearing fairy spun around and jumped off of her contractors shoulder, flapping her wings in the air to keep herself suspended. She then flew up into the six-year-old half humans face, her arms held behind her back like a little kindergartner. "Sure! Go right ahead little miss curious sadist!" she winked towards Lilith.

At that, Lilith had to frown. She was not a sadist just because she really liked the flavor of human fear! And she said as much to the fairies face. "I'm not a sadist just because I like to make whiny humans scream and cry. It's their fault for making the stuff in the first place." She pouted, crossing her arms as she stared into the mirth filled eyes of her companion.

Pixie only retorted with a smirk on her face and a crossing of the arms. "Sure you're not. And the burn marks on the basement floor of that church from yesterday, as well as the screams of the damned haunting that place say otherwise."

"…shut up. How was I supposed to know that that nuns lingering will would try to get back at me by haunting that church?"

Pixie: one. Lilith: zero.

"Well, maybe if you would take your education on all the demon clans more seriously, you would learn more about how the supernatural world works." Retorted the fairy with the ever condescending smirk on its face.

Lilith would have retorted right then and there instead of trying to ask the question she was going to ask. But she was a six year old. Demon body or not.

So of course she gave in to her impulses and retorted. Much like a child would. Even if she could have come up with a decent comeback if she pointed out that her supernatural world education had only just started.

"Well if you're so smart, why didn't you do anything to stop the ghost from haunting the place?" she replied with a 'I-just-won-this-argument smirk on her face'.

Pixie raised an eyebrow, that same dangable smirk on her face. "Simple really. Magatsuhi is more than just human emotions. Its human emotions, with the occasional _soul_ thrown in. The liquid stuff you keep getting is the Magatsuhi created from regular human emotions. But Magatsuhi made from a soul? That stuff becomes crystallized. And it packs even more of a punch than regular ol' Magatsuhi."

 _Oh really now_? "And just where did you hid this crystal then?" demanded Lilith with her arms crossed. A disbelieving stare being directed at the small of the two.

If possible, Pixie's smirk became even more condescending. With a snap of her fingers, a crystal with appeared in her hand. It was a small thing, but eye-catching as well. It was shaped like in diamond-shape, four points, two obtuse angles, and two acute ones. In actuality, it looked a bit like a laval-lamp. With red and blue 'goop' floating up and down inside of it.

Distantly, Lilith heard a * **crack** * sound in the back of her hand. And just like that, she had a pretty good idea of what Pixie did to summon the crystal in the first place. But she wanted to confirm it anyway.

"Magic?" she asked, her face blank.

"Magic." The fairy answered, her face still smirking towards Lilith.

And then the little Fiend felt her old instinct creep up again. Her question she meant to ask returned to the forefront of her mind. "Hey Pixie," she began, looking into the fairies eyes to make sure she was listening, "is it possible for another demon to track down another demon?"

At that question, Pixie stopped and adopted a thinking pose. Literally, she posed just like the thinker sculpture.

"Well, certain demons, like the Divine clan, emit auras that effect demons and humans differently. I've heard horror stories about Metatrons presence, and of how just being around Mara makes people more likely to do the bedsheet tango. But hunting down another demon? Well, every demon has their own unique 'presence' for lack of a better word. For a demon to hunt down another one, they would have to get a whiff of their prey, or enter into a contract where they can automatically lock onto another's presence."

At that last bit of information, Lilith tilted her head curiously. "…Enter a contract to hunt a demon down? What else can contracts do?" she asked the tiny Fairy, intrigue taking hold of her eyes.

Pixie blinked at the question, slightly startled by the question. She then sighed and moved towards the bookshelf to sit down on the wooden shelf, just in front of a Captain America comic.

"For a demon to enter a contract is for them to gain something in return for their services. Contracts have the power to break conventional rules that impose limitations on demons. Some demons will enter a contract to hunt someone down in return for a small, permanent boost in their power granted to them by the contract. Others will enter a contract that entitles them to protect a place, a person, or even a bloodline. In return they will get something they seek, an object, or maybe because they feel obligated to enter a contract like that out of a genuine sense of honor. Some demons are like that, and most of them can be found in Japan. Those ones tend to be super powerful though. There's a reason very few willingly cross the national defense divinites, the four heavenly kings, or even Masakados. You would have to be stupider than a slime to even try and go against him."

Taking a deep breath, Pixie continued on. "Contracts are something of a universal oath to us demons. When we enter one, we will always fulfill them. Even if we don't want to. Some are binding, some fight against our wills, and others are simply agreements. The contract I entered with you is the last of those. An interesting fact about contracts is that they're not just limited to humans. A demon can make a contract with _anything_. Special mention goes to Beldr, who made a contract with the _world_ itself so that nothing could harm him. Too bad for him, Loki pulled a few strings." She finished with a smirk.

Letting a sigh out while Lilith ingested all that information, she began to stretch her limbs out. First her arms and legs, and then her neck and wings.

"So," began the small fairy with a slightly tired look on her face, "What brought up that question? The one where you asked if a demon could hunt down another demon?" she drawled out, laying down on her back against the bookshelf. Her head dangling off of the wooden shelf as she kicked her feet into the air.

"Meh. Just felt like I was being chased by someone. Used to get this feeling that would go down my spine when my cousin used to chase me around. Been feeling that same feeling for the past two hours." She nonchalantly replied as she pulled out yet another comic.

Pixie meanwhile, had stilled and froze. Her eyes widened in shock. Flopping back into the air, she made a beeline for Liliths head. Lilith, taken by surprise, could do nothing as Pixie grabbed her ear, and took a deep breath, before letting it out.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THAT EARLIER!? WE COULD BE IN DANGER YOU IDIOT!"

Lilith, not having expected the sudden shouting I her ear, stumbled back and almost crashed into the bookshelf behind her. Instead, she managed to catch herself, and fell onto her rear end onto the cold, white tile floor of the London library.

Staring up at the scowling Pixie, who floated above the half-Fiends head with her arms crossed, Lilith sent a glare towards her.

"What was that for!?" shouted Lilith as threw her arms to the side in outrage. The green tattoo markings on her arms, bare chest, face, and pretty much the rest of her body glowed much brighter than usual, as if reacting in response to her anger at the sudden, unexpected action taken by her companion of two days.

"We could be in danger! A demons instincts are to be trusted at all times! You have to tell me when you start feeling things like that!" the Fairy responded in kind towards the half-Fiend.

At that, Lilith's face scrunched up in anger. "Then why didn't you feel anything then!? You're a demon too, you should have felt what I felt then!"

Pixie scowled at that. She then locked eyes with Lilith. "I'm from the fairy clan, and belonging to one of the weakest species from the fairy clan. But you? You're a Fiend. One of the most powerful kinds of demons out there. It's only natural that your instincts would be better than mine, or any other low class demon. And now we might be in danger if there's a demon hunting you, especially so if it actually is gunning for _you_ specifically."

"And that's bad why…?" asked Lilith as she got up from sitting on her ass. The floor really wasn't built with comfort in mind.

"Because that means that all the other demons know about your existence. And if all the big ones know, then all the other ones will know. Fiends aren't common. They're all unique and different, but there are always a few similarities between them…" spoke Pixie with apprehension in her voice.

Lilith was not used to this Pixie. The Pixie she knew was a rather fun person with a slight mischievous streak. Then again, she had only known her for two whole days. Who was to say that she had seen the entirety of Pixie's personality colors?

"And what are those two things?" asked Lilith, curiosity getting the better of her. Who could blame her? She was a Fiend, but she didn't know what all that entailed. And she wanted to know.

"Fiends are all powerful, almost absurdly so…ever hear about the Four Horsemen? Those guys are Fiends. The guy normal humans call Father Time? He regularly ventures out into this world to claim the souls of random people. That Dante fellow-' _who the hell is that?_ ' Lilith wondered- over in America? He's classified as one as well." She spoke, her brow furrowed as she explained just what Fiends were.

"But why would a demon hunt me down if all the other ones are so powerful?" questioned Lilith, her eyes gliding over the rest of the building, and her arms crossed over her shirtless, tribal tattoos covered chest.

"Power." Answered Pixie. Her face calm and frowning as she answered Lilith's question. "Demons gain power from killing other demons, and absorbing their adversary's power. A Fiend, a naturally powerful demon, is one of the more rare, and deadly kinds of demons out there. That's an acknowledged universal fact. But if every demon out there knows about your existence…well, to put it bluntly, you're like a chocolate corn dog, wrapped in bacon, and buttered up with sugar. You're a Fiend, but at the same time, _weak_. A newborn. Demons won't be out for you per say, but your power is something they will want like nothing else. And if there's one thing demons like a lot more than anything else-well, in general- its power."

There was silence after that admission. Lilith found herself with her mouth dry as that drop of knowledge sunk into her brain. Comprehension-and with it, understanding- dawned onto her. And she only just now realized the danger that her very existence as a Fiend brought her.

This was nothing compared to what her cousin would do during a 'Lilith hunt'. This wasn't about her getting beat up and physically abused. This was about her life, and of how it could quite easily be cut short by beings far stronger than her. Beings that would kill her and take her power if it meant that they could receive a boost in return.

And quite honestly, that didn't scare her. No, it _terrified_ her.

"How…how do stop them from coming after me?" she asked. Anxiety and fear creeping both into her form, and her voice.

"…The only thing that all demons, regardless of clan affiliation, or personal grudges, respect above all else is power. If you're strong, they will follow. Many demons will flock to overlords with prestige, the lord of Bel being the most notable. But if you want demons to stop targeting you, you'll have to show them that you mean business. That you're not someone they want to attack without fear of retribution."

Lilith frowned at that. That sounded like…

"What you're saying is that, to stop strong demons from attacking me, I have to be stronger than the ones that come after me?"

…the most simple and basic answer. But the one that sounded a lot harder than it should.

Pixie snorted. A sardonic grin etched itself into her face. "Pretty much. Demons don't really have any 'human morals'. There are a few 'noble' ones out there as the trope goes, but their far and few in between. You're more likely to run into something like a Wendigo or a Legion or something like those two. Somewhere around the in between of 'strong' and weak' demons. Those are the most likely to come after you." She expositioned to the younger of the duo.

Lilith began to stretch out her muscles at this point. Hours of laboring over prettily colored books, various dictionaries, and multiple books on different mythologies had caused her muscles to cramp, and her tattoo covered behind. However, she still tilted her head to look at the floating fairy in front of her, above her head.

"But why won't the strong and weak demons come after me?" she asked as pulled her arm over and behind her neck and shoulders.

Pixie too then started stretching out her muscles, specifically her arms and legs. Her wings were already getting a workout. "The strong won't bother with you until you get more powerful. Figuratively speaking, you're not on their 'radar' yet. That doesn't mean they won't kill you if you get in their way. You're like a fly to them; they'll swat you out of the air with a burning hot frying pan if you annoy them."

She then tilted her head as she watched Lilith pull her leg so that her foot was right next to her head. Lilith seemed surprised she could do it as well. "The weak are just that. Weak, lower class demons that are too pitiful to even bother with trying to kill a Fiend. And they know it. Your reputation as a Fiend is enough to drive them off. The middle class of demons won't be driven off by that reputation though. They're the ambitious ones. The ones that will do anything to survive, as well as gain more power. Watch out for those."

Silence followed after that. After a couple of minutes, Pixie turned to Lilith, who was reading yet another comic from the DC shelf. Personally, she was more of a Marvel Fairy, but that was currently the farthest thing from her mind.

Unlike her companion, she was taking the news that they were being hunted very seriously. Which brought another question to the forefront of Pixie's mind.

"Lilith…do you know, by any inconceivable chance, how to suppress your power? You know, to hide yourself from more powerful beings that you can't take on yet? Most demons can do it instinctively, kind of like a defense mechanism. I think the human equivalent is pissing themselves or something like that…it's a pretty stupid one if you ask me…"

Lilith, ever the astute adorable little half-demon, looked up from where she was leaning against a bookshelf, her head buried in yet another comic that she was skimming through.

"Pixie, I've been a demon for little more than twenty-four hours. The only things I know how to do is set people on fire, which is a lot of fun by the way, heal them up, and then rip them to pieces with my bare hands. Which is also something that's a lot of fun to do. What do you think?" she deadpanned with a blank glare towards the flying fairy.

"It's apparently enough time for an abused child to learn how to be a sarcastic brat." She snarked back with a snap of her fingers. Thankful for the sixth time for the day that she had set up a Barrier after she had…befuddled the reception lady at the front. Seriously, humans were so damn _easy_ to mess with.

"What I think is that you need to learn to control and suppress your demonic powers. There are humans that can kill you easily. And I already told you that there are Demons that are all too willing to eviscerate you due to your status as a Fiend. All it takes is a simple magically charged steel bullet to the head to kill you. A lighting spear to the chest. A hand twice your size crushing you under its sheer weight. There are easily over a trillion ways to kill you that I could name right now. And over more than twice that amount for the methods I'm not accounting for."

There was a hard and harsh light in Pixie's eyes as she said that. The regular mirth and playfulness in her voice was gone, and replaced with an echo of knowledge. Of experience long etched into the confines of her memory. Of witnessing destruction and death on a scale that only a Demon could conceive.

It occurred to Lilith that Pixie would know a lot more than she let on.

It occurred to Lilith that Pixie could be a lot more powerful than she suspected.

It never occurred to Lilith that Pixie might be as ancient as an actual demon from the pits of hell. It was only now that she was beginning to comprehend the idea of what a demon truly was. Of what the title meant. Of the magnitude that comes with being a demon, a monster born of the blackest womb, and what such a name truly represented.

It was the first time that she had seen the Demon aligned to her by contract actually serious. Not playful. Not taking jabs at her. And not messing around with her own abilities.

In all honesty though, it made Lilith smile. Sure, it was different from how she usually was. In fact, it was a stark differences. Completely unexpected and out of character. But, at the same time, it made relating to her Demon companion all the more easier.

Growing up she had to often keep up a mask of sorts. A false Persona, something to drive suspicion and paranoia away. Acting like they expected her to in order to get them off of her back, and to save her own skin. From the moment she had become a Half-Fiend she had thrown that mask off, reveling in the freedom it granted her. Unchaining her anger, speaking without thought. Exploring just what it meant to be _free_. To be **away** from a _Prison_ forced upon her after her parent's death in a car crash.

But now, she knew that her companion only showed her a part of the person behind the title of Pixie. That she wasn't just a playful, cat-smiling fountain of knowledge on the world of the Supernatural. There was more to Pixie than just being her teacher in the Demonic Arts.

Teacher…now there was a word that brought up distaste in her throat. The Elementary School teachers were never any good to her. Always ignoring her when the other kids made fun of her. The only time they stepped in was when that one kid grabbed her glasses and broke them against a wall when he missed throwing them to his friend.

That say she learned a valuable lesson when she got back home. Tread on feather feet when around the eerily calm. If they show no emotion, then avoid them to the best of your ability.

And tread carefully she did. She kept her head down, acted submissive and terrified. Because what else could she do but be scared? And now, that was all in the past.

And for once, she could think of the word 'Teacher' in a positive light. Pixie was her teacher for the moment, her guide in how to be a demon. And she was thankful for that.

A sigh escaped Lilith's lips as she put the comic book in her hands back into its place on the shelf. Taking in a deep breath, she turned to face her contracted Demon, and then let the breath out of her throat.

"I get it Pixie, I really do. Look, can you just tell me how to suppress me power? At least until the feeling I got goes away?" she asked her partner, who smirked at the little half-fiend. The hard and ancient look in her eyes disappearing; making way for the mirth and playfulness that Lilith had come to associate with the little Fairy.

"Well, first you need to-"

* **crack** *

* **crackle** *

* **RIP** *

The moment Lilith heard those sounds, she knew something horrible was about to happen. When she felt the terrible, **terrible** pressure fall onto her shoulders.

And then the cold feeling grew in her stomach. Like a ball of ice, taking her insides and freezing them, making them frigid and unmovable.

The itchiness then spread all across her body, making her skin tingly and uncomfortable. It made her body shake and quiver, as if she was a prisoner struggling against their binds.

And lastly, she felt the need to run. To fly away. To get away from the library. _To get as far as she could. Run, run AWAY! FLEE WHILE YOU STILL CAN! ITS NOT SAFE HERE! ITS NOT SAFE! NOTSAFENOTSAFENOTSAFENOTSAFENOTSAFE!_

That feeling stopped as soon as she felt the metaphorical bounds wrap around her and the library. Chaining them, binding them. _There was no escape_ , this Lilith knew as her instincts told her. She could only fold in on herself as she felt the oppressive _monster_ chain her to the building, trapping her inside of it.

This, Lilith realized, was the great and primal fear all things felt when faced with their own imminent demise.

And she didn't know what to do.

Her amber eyes locked onto Pixie's terrified bright green ones. She too felt the great fear that she felt. But that did not stop Lilith from pleading with her eyes, speaking not what her mouth would speak. Speaking not what her pride allowed to speak. Pleading, begging desperately one word, spoken not through words, but through body language.

In all her time living with her relatives, in all of her life, she had never spoken that one, **damning** word. The one word that could have probably saved her earlier in her life. If she had shouted it just once someone might have saved her from that cupboard beneath the stairs. If only she said it…if only…

Bu she didn't. What was it that stopped her? Was it fear for what would happen if that word did nothing? Was it pride, that wouldn't allow her to lower herself so on the off chance that doing so would save her?

It didn't matter. For in the end, what Lilith wouldn't speak with sound, her body did for her. Even if she would rather curse herself to the very pits of hell, her body language could not lie. Hey eyes could not lie.

Gazing into the eyes, Pixie knew what her contractor was asking her. And it was with the greatest regret and disappointment that she could not say anything positive. That she well and truly could not do anything.

Their fates were sealed. And no one could change them. Not even Norn.

When Pixie looked away, despair in her eyes, Lilith's heart sank then and there.

She knew her plea would go unheeded.

And that's when they began to hear the screams. The bloodcurdling cries of suffering, death, and terror. The shrieks of the despairing, and the whimpers of fear. She heard it all, and felt it all. It was like a miasma of human emotion, dark, negative, inversive.

It was suffocating to her. There was too much, too many responses and feelings. Too many human emotions, too much stimuli of the same things. Fear and abject terror being the prime responses amongst the throngs of humans.

But it was still too much. To Lilith, fear and terror were visible in the air. The dread was physical, a black and grey smog of human emotion, and it felt like it was all just crushing down on her. Bending about around her, pushing against her. It was like the air itself was trying to push her down, to keep her rooted in place.

And suddenly, she felt it all lessen. It was still there, but the feeling was muted. The pressure on her shoulders, the pressure that was choking her, asphyxiating her was still pushing down on her, bearing down on her. But it wasn't like it was before. It was manageable now to a degree.

Taking in great gasps of air, Lilith realized that that wasn't the only thing that was diluted. The screams of terror were muted as well. They too, where still there, however, they sounded like they were coming through a wall. As if there was a barrier of sorts in the way, preventing the great majority from reaching her.

It was only now, with her senses restored, no longer overloaded, that she was able to take in her surroundings. With her six senses restored, she could feel the tremors in the ground. The cracks that littered the floor. The smell of human ashes and rotting organs. The smell of ozone, and the tingle of the lightning element.

And still, the screams continued. Her sixth sense, her instinct, magic, and spiritual awareness all wrapped into one, absolutely _throbbed_ with active stimuli. She could feel human souls passing on towards heaven and hell. Could feel the screams of them as they were being devoured, it throbbed and ached as it pulsed again and again, alerting her to more and more death and destruction.

There was too much going on, too much. She was still all too new to this; she was but a newborn that had been brought into the great cosmic war between Heaven and Hell.

 **She was not ready for this**.

"-ith! Lilith! Listen to me damnit!" screamed Pixie into her ear. The sound of her contracted Demon snapping her out of her sensory overload trance, Lilith turned to face Pixie. Her arm, formerly covering her face in some instinctual, pitiful attempt to hide herself from the threat that lay beyond, moved to support her against the bookcase that she turned to lean against.

"Pixie-whats…whats happening!? Who? What? Why? Its so heavy-why!? Why is this happening!?" Lilith babbled as she tried to process it all. Her still developing, half-demonic mind was barely able to keep up with it all, and the strain was visible on Lilith now as her tattoos blared and dimmed at erratic intervals.

Thankfully, Lilith was snapped out of her hysteria by a swift roundhouse kick from Pixie. The demons strength being more than enough to make Lilith visibly flinch. The pain did its job however, and the half-Fiend's attention was solely on the redheaded Fairy.

"You feel that? You feel afraid? Do you feel scared? Use that fear. Make yourself small. The more you suppress yourself the better you hide from other demons. The more you suppress, the more likely it is that we'll survive this." She spoke, eyes wide and constantly looking around. Viewing their surroundings and looking beyond them.

Lilith sucked in a deep breath as she tried to follow her contracted demons advice. Trying, and succeeding to some degree, to make herself smaller. She used her fear. That Primal desire to make herself smaller, to hide herself away from the rest of the world. And in the end, focusing on that fear helped her.

And then she stepped out of the aisle, and walked right onto the sea of blood on the library floor.

* * *

 **Meanwhile: Outside of the London Library**

Outside it was a hailstorm of activity as the London Police Force scrambled about to do their job. Outside of the Library the Police had formed a protective Barrier of cars, roadblocks, yellow tape, and a few sandbags here and there.

Around the entire building was a purple, flame-like barrier that killed any who touched it with their bare hands. They had seen enough civilian and Police casualties burned to ash to testify that by itself. The barrier was shaped like a prism, encompassing the entire structure with three sides and six vertices. Various shades of purple scrambled over each and every facet of the construct. Creating flame-like patterns that blended into various blends and hues.

If it hadn't already killed a lot of people, and obscured what was inside of it, many would say that it was a work of art.

But if only they could ignore the piles of ashes and violet flames just barely two inches away from it all. If only…

"Well…shite. How in the bloody hell do we get through this barrier?" Questioned one irate Police Chief. Long red hair, trailing down her back, and shinning in the afternoon sun. Behind her was an entourage of police cars and various panicked individuals.

Of course there was also the saber strapped to her hip, and the revolver twirling in her hand. A scowl marrying her face, and a black suit and dress pants to compliment her figure of authority. One brave officer ended up answering her though.

"We can't Sir. We've tried everything. Bombs, battering rams, they did nothing. Not even a dent. Bloody hell woman, we even pulled out a Pile Bunker. It cracked it but…the cracks fixed themselves. Just what the hell is this thing?" spoke up an officer wearing the standard uniform. A baton to his side, and a star of sorts emblazed on his Officer hat.

It should be noted, that the barrier only burned flesh to ash. It was apparently selective about the things it hates.

A sigh escaped the Police Chief as she continued to twirl her blessed silver revolver (with a leather grip!) in her left hand while she fondled the hilt of her saber with the other. "Well then that's a dead end. Tell those on standby to open fire on the barrier with anything heavy they can find. Tanks, rocket launchers, C4 explosives. Find what works, and then keep on using it. As long as there is no skin contact they should be fine. Have them wear protective equipment if they had to put anything on it. Understood? Then spread the word!" the Police Chief barked at the Officer she was addressing without having to turn to face him.

The Officer in question simply nodded and went about to relay her orders. Leaving the Police Chief to stand alone on the square tile concrete. That is until another officer hobbled up and began to address the Police Chief.

"The area is secured Sir. All civilians have been evacuated and the area has been closed off. No one's getting in at this point. What should we do next?" he spoke in a gruff voice. He had a mustache on his face and spoke with a Russian accent. Something that was completely different from the usual British she was used to, or Phelps's semi-British/semi-Japanese accent. Honestly it was a novelty as far as she was concerned.

"Are Phelps and Connors back with VIP that they were supposed to bring?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the large, prism shaped, purple barrier hanging over the entire London Library. The Revolver stopped twirling in her hand.

"They just arrived Sir. Last I saw them they were weaving through all the Police cars we used to block off access. The VIP is with them." The Russian-accented officer replied. It was thick, but not overtly so. The man had been living in Britain for the past five years or so, his accent was beginning to wane if it hadn't already done so.

"Describe." She commanded without any inflection of ton. It was quick, decisive, and straight to the point.

"Tall. Medium-length black hair. White coat. Steel tipped sabatons. Carries a sword in one hand. Has a Scandinavian accent. Nothing else of note to comment on." The twenty-seven year old officer replied briskly.

The Police Chief stopped drumming her fingers across the hilt of her saber. "Dismissed. Go and join the officers keeping the civilians out of the area. This situation is a clusterfuck enough as it is without some random media vulture snooping around."

At that, the Russian-accented Officer smiled a crooked smile. "How much shit did they give you last week about that string of murders around in the downtown area?"

"How many cups of coffee did you drink during that fiasco Tuesday down in your department?" she retorted. Her face ever unchanging.

The man only chuckled in response. "Whatever you say _Oga_." He said in good nature.

The man also happened to be fluent in about thirty-six various languages. If one was to ask just how he knew so many, he would reply with saying that is family tree is really diverse.

A really _freaking_ diverse as hell family tree. Like, the dude is related to at least 43 different lost civilizations and tribes…somehow…

There was a pause at that moment, a quite minute of silence. But it was broken when the Police Chief spoke up, her hand ceasing its action of tapping the hilt of the cutlass. "I want any and all civilians sent as far away as possible. I gave a similar order ten minute ago, I want that distance doubled if possible. Have someone call in the medics. I want them on standby, prepped and ready to dive in and save lives. Make sure the parameter is secure, we can't have anything slipping in or out. Spread the word Alexei." She commanded, her voice the song of authority as the man scrambled to work.

It would be a little while later, long after the pounding of leather shoes on concrete petered away that the Police Chief would hear the * **Flip Flop** * and ***click clack** * of three different sets of feet thumping and clopping against the floor she stood on.

Turning around for the first time since she layed eyes on the Prism Barrier surrounding the London Library, The Boss Lady of London's Police Force for over four years gazed upon what was hopefully the answer to the crisis on her hands.

Investigator Henry Connors. Born and raised in Chicago U.S. 1987. Left in 2004 and came to London with his sister, Mary Connors, after a falling out in his workplace, family, and social life. Applied to join the London Police Force after spending two years as a private detective. Was given the job eight months ago, and has done nothing but outstanding work. Was promoted from Arson to Auto after two months of solid word, but has repeatedly refused any future promotion due to personal reasons. And lastly, a very damn good crackshot with a six cartridge revolver.

The man was wearing a blue suit and red tie. A black fedora with a checkerboard pattern around the rim of the hat was placed on his head, covering a patch of brown-red hair. His favored revolver was strapped to his hip, ready to be drawn at a moment's notice. And on his back was a pump-action shotgun that seemed to be of military quality. The man was dressed for war.

On the other side of the three was Takami Phelps. Born 1985, with a Japanese Mother, and a British Father, the man was orphaned at a young age due to sketchy circumstances. The details are classified by the Japanese government, something that raised every one of the Police Chiefs alarm bells, but everywhere else the man was clean.

The man immigrated to London for reasons unknown in 2006, and applied to join the London Police force as an investigator. Passing all of the tests with astounding grace, the man quickly became a bit of a rising star in the force. The man was partnered with Henry Connors two months prior to the current ongoing events. And ever since then the two have forged a solid partnership between each other through various cases, drinking hours, smoke breaks, and bar fights.

Lots and lots of bar fights.

The man, in contrast to his partner, was wearing a maroon suit and blue tie. A basic 9mm Pistol attached to his hip, and various cartridges of ammunition lining his pockets and belt. The man had a head of black hair that was covered by a peacock feathered black fedora. In contrast to his slightly tense partner, the man was as calm as an ocean with no breeze. His eyes were locked onto the Police Chiefs, giving her his undivided attention.

And in between the two men was a figure that seemed to have been displaced by time. His skin was pale, almost as if the sun had no effect on it. His hair was slightly curly, wavy, and was the color of the midnight sky. His white coat covered his arms, and trailed down his thighs. Underneath the coat was a stark white dress shirt buttoned up to the collar.

The man's pants where a slightly baggy white. But his feet were covered in sparkling silver sabatons. Fine, silver like steel that seemed to have an edge of their own. And in his right hand was a longsword with a bright, shiny blue sapphire jewel embedded into the center of the pommel. The blade was sheathed in a brown leather scabbard. Oddly enough, despite the rather large size of the blade, it seemed perfectly proportional to everything else about the man. Probably because the man himself was six foot three.

But the most striking detail to the Police Chief was the nobleman like face, and the ocean blue eyes that bored into her skull. The power, age, and wisdom behind them were barely hinted to her, but she could still see glimpses in them.

She decided to break the silence and get a move on. Time was of the essence. "You're not what I expected when I was told that we would be contracting the services of a demon to solve our little dilemma." She said curtly, analyzing the man's every action to get a read on him.

No reaction. That was what she received.

The man simply swerved his eyes away from the Police Chiefs and towards the purple-prism barrier around the London Library. The man then walked past the Boss Lady of London's Police Force. The man never broke his gaze, nor his gait as he moved to stand beside the Police Chief.

"The situation is quite clear…in my mind."

He paused, taking in a small breath and exhaling.

"You have need of my services."

A flicker of killing intent emanated from the demon in a human guise. Not enough to be felt by the every other person in the area, but the redheaded woman felt it. Even if only just barely.

But it was enough. Faster than human reflexes should have been capable of, she had drawn her saber, and moved to swipe at the demon with a horizontal slash.

But it was for naught, as her blade clashed with the demons sheathed one.

"You have need of my power. My abilities."

Another swing, this time from a diagonal angle. Again, it clashed with the demons sheathed one.

"But what do you have to offer me? Why should I bother with forging a contract with you?"

* **Clang** *

"Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you and walk away? None of these humans here are powerful enough to face me."

* **click** * ***clack** *

And like that, Connors and Phelps were on either side of the Demon, guns aimed at his back and head respectively.

It was with a twist of her hand that the demon was disarmed. And then, in the next half-second, that her blade was tensed at the demons neck. Stopped millimeters away from lopping off its head only by the grace of the redheaded Police Chief.

The Boss Lady stared the demon right in the eye with her own turquoise green eyes. "You want a reason…?" she said, pausing simply to gaze into the man's eyes. Sapphire orbs conveying his answer.

"Because if you forge a contract with me, I will do everything in my power to assist you in your endeavor to protect as many people as possible from any and all supernatural threats. Be it God, Demon, Wizard, or otherwise. You have my word Kresnik, slayer of the Vampire Kudlack."

The man smiled a genuine smile then and there.

"It would seem that we have an agreement then Cordelia Bones…or should I say, Master?"

* * *

 **Inside of the London Library: Moments barely before the events of outside the Library**

He heard the screams before she felt the wave of bloodlust. It was a terrible thing when one thought about it. What was bloodlust? What words could describe the inherent desire to murder? To maim, rip apart, tear asunder, and mutilate an entity? A human being? A demon?

There are very few ways to describe the feeling of bloodlust. When directed towards another person, it could be described as freezing cold water seeping into each and every pore of the body, saturating them with an icy feeling. Cold, slimy hands crawling down one's spine, freezing the bone in place, and stopping all movements. It is like your lungs are being frozen, unable to breath, unable to focus on anything but the chilling, all-encompassing feeling of ice filling your body.

That is the feeling of bloodlust directed unto an individual. One may wonder why all of the descriptions involve metaphors or similes related to the cold, or feeling ice in ones veins. That is for a very simple reason.

When death approaches he is cold. Death is a neutral force. An entity that accepts all without judgment, ignoring any and all pleas, but still embracing what you are and who you are.

Such was not the case for the victims of the Demon stalking the London library. And it was those descriptions of fear, of bloodlust, that perfectly described the feelings of the humans that were being ripped to bloody giblets and eaten by a soulless abomination.

Her face was as beautiful as it was bewitching. Ethereal and graceful. But behind the white paint that covered its face was nothing but a hollow monster. A Demon that gorged itself on blood and human meat. Sinew, and muscle. Veins and crimson icor. Skin and bone. Nothing as spared as her hundred teeth ripped and sawed through meat and fleshes of all colors.

Screams resounded and singed, various tempos and pitches. But their pleas, like death, were ignored. All that existed to the demon was its ravenous hunger. But human flesh was never enough, it never would be. It had to find it, that wonderful aroma, that delightful tinge of innocence, darkness, and **power**.

She tasted it, sensed it, and felt it. **And she wanted more**.

A whimper caught her hyper-sensitive ears. An her face swerved 180 degrees, going from straight ahead to staring straight behind her. Her face tilted up, a malicious glee forming upon its visage as it recognized the cry as that of a human child.

A child, up in the air ducts. Crying for help. Or was it out of fear? Shock? It didn't matter.

" _Did you think you could hide from me? How…insect-like. Hiding from those superior to you…but that is expected. Humans are all the same…_ "

Her voice was warbly, changing pitch and octave with each letters pronunciation. It was as if the demons vocal cords were not meant to speak human words. And as such, whatever emerged from its blood-caked vocal cords was nothing but inhuman screeches and growls.

Its body, covered in an elaborate dress made up of greens, pinks, and whites, and fashioned in a style reminiscent of ancient Chinese female dresses, covered its body. Giving it a human look that would easily disguise it as one…if it wasn't for its bloated stomach, filled to the brim and beyond with human meat and crimson lifeblood.

A sickening, dreadful smile appeared on its crimson lips, lips that were hidden behind a decorative fan that was held in front of the lower half of its face. And then, the monster _slithered_ towards the ceiling. It's body, unnatural already, moved and coursed about like a snakes. Bones dislocating and reattaching at will as its body moved about. Its movements were almost graceful in a way. They were like that of a dancers, smooth, twirling, at ease.

But there was no denying the bizarreness of it all, the inhuman grace and dignity with which it moved about. As if waltzing through a field of corpses and rotting flesh and blood. Dark, dry blood.

Its body coiled around a pillar, slithering onwards and onwards toward the ceiling of the building towards the whimpers and sobs of the crying child.

Finally, at the top, its body floating right in front of the air duct, the demon smiled. Its body was unmoving in the air, not bobbing up or down. The only thing that moved was the flaps of its clothing. Even the bottom part of its dress, the part the trailed behind it, the part that was sticking to the wall even as its bearer stood perfectly still in the air, was unmoving.

The smile began to stretch as the demon stare into the tear stained eyes of the human child. Growing wider, and wider, even as the limits of what should be possible for those facial muscles began to be stretched, the smile still grew wider and wider.

" _Entranced by my beauty are you not child? Tis' only natural of course. One such as you would have never encountered something as beautiful as I am at this point in your feeble life._ "

The sobbing child stopped shedding its tears. Its eyes never left the demon standing in front of it. For it was right, never before had the human child seen anything as beautiful as the monster before it. Even when its dress was stained with blood, there was still an ethereal beauty to it. A beauty that bewitched the senses and demanded the attention of all that layed eyes on it.

The child was already caught in its trap.

Reaching out it hand, the demon burned the metal plating covering the chute to liquid iron and steel. Not even phased by the unnatural feet, the demon cupped the side of the child's face with its pale white hand. Manicured fingers running across the skin of the human child, a child no older than eight winters.

" _Tell me child, what is the most beautiful aspect of me? Gaze upon my face and see its radiance. Feel my blessed fingers upon your frail skin. Hear my voice and its joyful chimes. Tell me, what is the most beautiful aspect of Xi Wangmu?_ "

"I…" the child began, too enthralled to do anything else but commit the figure before him into memory. But how could it not? When forces beyond its comprehension were forcing it to relax, easing his tension. Making him more want to speak, to talk to the figure of pureness and beauty in front of his very eyes. To give this goddess before him what she wanted? How could any child, regardless of potential in life, be expected to fight against that?

" _Yes…go on child. Tell me what is the most vaunted part of myself…tell me child…tell me…_ " she hissed into his ear as she took him from the chute he was in, and pressed him up against her bosom. His feet pushing slightly against her bloated stomach as his back was pressed into her chest.

But if the child noticed the change in position, it did not act on it. It was too enthralled, too deep into the demons grasp. Tentatively, the child reached out and curled its tiny hand around a strand of the demons hair. It gazed at the ebony strand of dead skin cells in its hand, an almost maddening glaze in its eyes at looked upon the small strand of hair.

"You hair…its…so beautiful…" the child mumbled, entranced by the figure smiling down on him. Showing her approval towards him in those jade green eyes of hers that glowed with power.

But then that glow turned malicious. And the strand of hair melted into nothing but black ooze in the child's hand. But it did not stop there, no it didn't.

The black ooze did not slip through the child's fingers. No, it stuck to them. And in the next instance, the child was broken from its trance, its eyes widening in pain, terror, and fear. And then it began to scream a horrible scream. A scream that no child should ever scream. And like that, the demon holding the boy smiled a serene smile. One of madness, evil, and pleasure.

The ooze on the boys hand began to fall away, revealing the rotting flesh beneath. Bones visible, and flesh falling off like liquid chunks. The muscle unraveled like a ball of string as it dripped blood from his mangled hand. The skin not touched by the black slime, but near the skin that was, turned a black color, and slowly began to peel itself away from where it was supposed to be.

And all throughout this painful, horrible process, the child continued to scream. It screamed and screamed and screamed. And it screamed even more when the Demon, Xi Wangmu, pulled the boy away from her bosom, and held him up in front of her face with both hands.

And those screams were silenced when the Demon. With but the use of one of its manicured fingernails, stabbed the boy in the neck, and ripped out his vocal cords. From that point on the boy could only make gasping noises as he choked on his own blood.

The demons beautiful face was marred by a sneer. A disproving look on its otherwise noble face. " _You where wrong boy. There is no aspect of myself that is more beautiful than another. All of Xi Wangmu is beautiful! There are no imperfections belonging to this body of mine!_ " she barked into the boy's crying face.

" _Learn the price of your folly human! Know your place among the food chain: at the very bottom!_ "

And like that, the Demons otherwise beautiful face _opened_ up. The jaw branching into four different pieces. Each one armed with hundreds of pointy, yellow, blood-caked teeth that were all of different shapes. No tooth was similar to another.

The boy, being just a boy, tried to scream when it saw the figure of radiance morph into an abomination against all of existence. But he only succeeded in getting more blood to congest in his throat, chocking him down even more.

The boy tried to scream even more when it saw that there were mouths in the middle of each tooth, laughing at him. Filled with hundreds of even more tiny, sharp teeth. His head was then pushed into the demons mouth…

And the boy knew no more than the embrace of darkness.

* * *

 **Hey ya'll. This is going to be a two parter. This chapter…has been rewritten four different times. I won't go into detail about them at the moment, that's for part two of this little thing. But suffice to say, they were not pretty. I was not satisfied with them. Next part shouldn't take that long to upload…well, in comparison to how long it normally takes me upload something.**

 **To give a hint of the original chapter, the London Library was on fire, and had three Pyro Jacks in it that Connors went duke nukem on with a shotgun. While awsome, it does not convey the kind of tone I want this story to have.**

 **In other news, Bloodborne!Luna is the winner of that little poll. Honestly its kind of because I literally only got calls for that one, while Seer Luna got nothing, and Fruit Loops!Luna only got one vote. Sorry to disappoint that guy who voted for that option, but Bloodborne!Luna wins. On the other hand, things will be getting much darker from here on out.**

 **As in, Grim Dark as Fuck kind of dark. SMT is never a safe world. It's rarely a place anyone would want to be in. War, death, betrayal, and demons killing indescrimnantly. You bet your ass things are gonna be dark.**

 **Also, am I the only one that notices that sometimes takes words out of sentences when you upload something onto the site?**

 **I promise though, after the next chapter, the part two to this one, things will be moving towards Hogwarts. And from there, even more disturbing things.**

 **And for all of you who patiently wait for me to write these stories, thank you. Receiving feedback from people telling me I did a good job helps immensely with giving me a drive to write. And those of you who point out the flaws in my writing, or give me small suggestions to better the story, thank you. Don't know why I'm all sentimental at the moment. Maybe it's the work of an enemy stand?**

 **Now that makes me wonder what my stand would be…**

 **AND THAT'S ALL SHE WROTE!**

 **CUE THE AIRHORNS!**

 **BABABABWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!**


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